Why2k – T.A. Berkeley

Chapter 1

As new beginnings went, it was inauspicious. Griff woke with a sour taste of beer and vomit in his mouth and a nose clogged with red-tinged mucus. And about an hour to vacate the premises.

He’d apparently blacked out without undressing, so at least he didn’t have to bother with putting clothes on. There’s that silver lining, he thought.

Vague impressions of the Christmas party he’d attended, where he’d barely known anyone but the coke had flowed freely, flickered in and out of his mind at random. Swearing to and at himself, he crammed belongings into crates and garbage bags.

He didn’t have much, but it was more than he should probably try to take. Tired tank tops and flannels, worn-out Docs and Birks, his favorite black button-down shirt that was starting to fray at the cuffs. CDs and wrinkled show flyers, a battered guitar, a sleeping bag. Too tired to decide what was worth keeping, he scooped up items in haphazard batches and carried them out in trip after seemingly endless trip. As his belongings filled the tiny car, he pulled some out and repositioned them so he’d have at least partial use of the rearview mirror.

His last stop was at the refrigerator. The kitchen had been worn but clean when he moved in; now it was just worn. Griff pushed past a half-empty bottle of vodka and dug beneath frost-coated microwavable burritos for a gallon freezer bag, its contents wrapped in a paper towel. Gusting a sigh of relief—some part of him had been convinced it’d be gone—he unzipped a backpack and stuffed the plastic bag under the last few random items he’d gathered from the apartment on his final walk-through: several notebooks, a pair of winter gloves he didn’t think belonged to him but might fit, a stack of dogeared paperbacks that had followed him from place to place since college: On the Road, The Naked Lunch, a collection of Transcendentalist essays. He hadn’t reread them in years but he never felt ready to leave them behind.

Just as he finished secreting the baggie at the bottom of the backpack, he heard the front door open. He flinched and pulled the zipper closed, then turned as footsteps approached the kitchen.

Ernie stood in the doorway, wearing a pained expression that could’ve been irritation, remorse, or both. Griff put on his own expression, going for a brave smile with sadness underneath. “Hey man, Merry Christmas, a day late.”

“Uh yeah, Merry Christmas to you,” Ernie said awkwardly.

“I’m just grabbing the last of my stuff.”

“Yeah, okay, cool.” Ernie looked around. “Kind of a mess in here …”

Griff sighed. “Yeah, I’m sorry man. I’ve been so busy raising funds so I can afford a place, I’ve kinda let it go.” He shrugged sadly.

“Yeah, well … I can clean it up, no problem.” Ernie seemed torn on which of his conflicted emotions to let out, but he’d never been one for confrontation. Which was why it’d been fairly easy for Griff to stay long past the month Ernie had offered the place for. “I’d’ve let you stay, but with Fern moving in, you know, she calls some of the shots now.” His girlfriend, Griff suspected, just didn’t like the idea of putting Ernie up at her place while Griff stayed rent-free in an apartment he barely visited. When her lease had come up she’d suggested they make their living together official—but in Ernie’s apartment.

“Totally understand,” Griff said in a sympathetic voice. “You know, it’s a good time for me to make a change anyway. Head somewhere new for the millennium, you know?”

“Yeah?” Ernie looked relieved that Griff was making it easy for him. “I never even asked—where you off to?”

“San Diego,” Griff chose at random.

“Oh, cool!” Ernie exclaimed eagerly. “You know I spent a few years there, right? Great city. I got a couple friends you should meet while you’re in town.”

Right. Griff had forgotten in his hungover state that Ernie had lived in San Diego. Maybe that’s why his subconscious had chosen that city.

“But just for a day or two,” he ad-libbed. “Gonna look up a cousin who lives there. Then I’m off to Denver.”

“Ah, nice,” Ernie said politely, and Griff was relieved he didn’t seem to have any connection there, so there was no need to spin the tale out any further.

“Anyway, I should get going before Fern gets here,” Griff said.

Ernie checked his watch and looked spooked, remembering his original urgency in getting Griff out of the place. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, man, you’ve done more than enough for me,” Griff said. “I owe you, big time.” He pulled Ernie in for a friendly hug. “I’ll send you a postcard or something.”

In the entryway, he pulled on his ancient brown leather coat, draped a scarf around his neck, and covered his bedhead with a stocking cap. Then he slumped tiredly down the stairs to his waiting car, pulling the complaining door shut with some effort.

He tossed his backpack in the passenger seat. Thinking better of that, he wedged it under a garbage bag of clothes in the back seat.

He made one stop on his way out of town, for gas, cigarettes, and breakfast of sorts, which he hoped would get him through the next six hours or so: a plain bagel, a peeled hard-boiled egg encased in hard plastic, and black coffee in a styrofoam cup.

He got onto the highway, the dismal winter sun glaring through his windshield, and headed east toward Idaho. He was too hungover to feel much excitement, but at least he didn’t have the energy for regrets or nostalgia either. He switched on the radio; “Mambo No. 5” was playing and he shuddered, clicking through channels until he reached something acceptable for his throbbing head.

Seattle, his home for the better part of a decade, faded unheralded in his rearview mirror. He didn’t look back except to change lanes. Maybe he’d miss it when he was more awake, but for now he was focused on chewing through some of the twenty-four hours of driving that stretched ahead of him.

Chapter 2

Pepper decided to take a break from endlessly hunting down missing props for a high school play that kept having to be delayed—hour after hour, until it was past midnight—and wake up instead.

Her initial relief at being out of the dream’s anxiety was short-lived; her brain started cycling immediately through real-world things she could worry about instead. After five minutes she decided she might as well get up and start doing something about them.

As she started to sit up, an arm slid around her waist. She looked back and Becket smiled sleepily up at her. It was impossible not to smile back. His dark hair, a few strands of silver running through it here and there, was too short to look very rumpled, but other than that he was the picture of inviting drowsiness.

“Don’t go yet,” he pleaded, kissing her arm and pulling her softly back down. He’d come to her place late the night before, after she’d arrived home from her parents’ Christmas dinner. Too full of food and woozy from mulled wine to fool around, she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder watching It’s a Wonderful Life and he’d led her half awake to bed when it was over.

She slipped back under the covers next to him. Her hand ran up his side beneath his tank top, moving to lace her fingers into the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. She thought, not for the first time, that he seemed like the first adult she’d ever been with. He was only five or so years older than she was, so she wasn’t sure what made the difference.

“I do have a ton of shit to do today,” she said regretfully. He groaned and rolled on top of her, and her breath caught as his lips traced their way from hers down her neck, unbuttoning the loose flannel shirt she’d slept in.

“Just a little bit longer then,” Becket said between kisses. Pepper gasped and arched her back a little as he reached her breasts, then continued down her belly.

She pushed the covers down so she could watch, but her vision soon blurred and she lay back, eyes closed. He was quiet and untheatrical in his movements; she always sensed he was listening to her breath, responding to the slightest tensing or relaxing of her thighs. She’d stopped playing up her responses for him soon after they started seeing each other and started truly enjoying herself instead. So refreshing, she thought as her breathing quickened and her hands knotted the sheets on either side, being with a grownup. Then she couldn’t think at all for a few seconds.

She lay still, enjoying the gradually receding ripples of pleasure, then glanced down at Becket. Her eyes flew all the way open and she sat up. “Shit!”

“What?” He looked alarmed.

Pepper groaned. “My fucking period.” She wished for a sinkhole to open under her, but one was not forthcoming. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed his chin and looked at his hand, then grinned. “Hey, it’s okay! I’ll be right back.” He jumped off the bed and went to the bathroom, an easy trip across her small studio apartment. Pepper heard water running.

“Fucking Depo-Provera,” she fumed. “It just comes and goes at random times now, and I never have any cramps to warn me. Which is great, until, you know, I bleed all over someone’s face!”

He reappeared, face clean and carrying a dampened washcloth. “It’s really not a big deal,” he laughed. He made as if to clean her off but she snatched the cloth from him.

“Thanks, but I can’t make you do that.” She finished wiping away the blood and tossed the washcloth toward the closet where her laundry hamper was stashed. “Jesus.”

“It is really, really okay,” Becket said, sitting on the bed next to her. “I would’ve gone down even if I’d known.” He kissed her lips, lingering. “I’ll do it again to prove it.” She scoffed, but gradually relaxed and returned the kiss, her embarrassment slowly draining away.

Becket had just settled back down beside her on the bed when her phone let out its chirpy robotic ring. She exhaled and pressed her hands to her eyes for a second, still feeling breathless, but steeled herself. “I have to take that,” she said. She slid her eyes to Becket’s face, expecting annoyance, but he was still smiling a little.

“That’s okay.” He kissed her hand. “I got what I wanted.” Their eyes locked for a few seconds before she broke the spell, feeling self-conscious. Every other man she’d been with in recent memory had always seemed like they were vaguely wondering if there was something better or more important they should be doing. It was unnerving to be regarded with such frank admiration and rapt attention. Nice, but weird.

She extricated herself from the tempting trap of her boyfriend and her bed, buttoning her top as she walked to the kitchenette counter and hit the button for her cellphone’s voicemail.

One message. “Hey, Pepper.” The voice sounded strained, the words coming out in a rush. “Uh, Merry Christmas, or happy holidays or whatever. Listen, I really hate to do this, but …”

Pepper listened, shaking her head. “Oh no no no no no,” she whimpered softly. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away angrily. She deleted the message with a trembling hand, resisting the urge to throw her small gray phone across the room.

“What is it, babe?” Becket crossed the room to her in three steps.

“My fucking DJ backed out,” she said between gritted teeth. “Gave some bullshit excuse, but I bet he got a better gig.” She stormed into the bathroom and started flossing furiously. “Everyone and their brother is throwing a fucking New Year’s party,” she mumbled through her fingers. “Shit, no one’s probably even going to come to mine.”

She threw the floss into the wastebasket and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“That’s not true.” Becket had followed her, and he put his arms around her from behind. “It’s gonna be great. You’ll find someone. I’ll help you. In fact—” in the mirror she saw him look at the ceiling in thought “—I know someone you can ask.” He kissed her hair. “Delia something. Really cool chick who comes to karaoke. She DJs. I think I’ve even seen her mentioned in the City Pages. I can find out how to get in touch with her.”

He squeezed Pepper and she slumped against him. “Really?” She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “You don’t think she’s probably got something lined up already?”

“Well, it won’t hurt to ask, and if so, we’ll find somebody else. I’ll help you. Hey, worse comes to worst, I can borrow some equipment from somebody and play CDs for you. You’ll have music for your party. Don’t worry, okay?”

Pepper turned around and grabbed him in a hard hug, pressing her cheek against his stubbled face. “Thanks, Beck. You don’t have to, you know—”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she said lamely. “But thanks.”

Chapter 3

In a nondescript room of a nondescript building in a bland office park in the suburbs, Delia blinked back her own tears, feeling anything but cool. Her multicolored braids were tied in a ponytail at her neck and she wore an oversize sweatshirt.

She squinted through wire-frame glasses at a handwritten order form at the top of a small stack of them, keying in the order numbers and verifying that the item name on screen more or less matched the scrawled description on the piece of paper.

Country music played behind her—Alan Jackson, Delia had learned over the course of a few shifts. Jean, the only weekend worker who wasn’t a temp, served as their de facto supervisor, and she chose the music. Photos of the singer grinning under a blond mustache and pristine white cowboy hat, cut out from magazines and newspapers, were taped all around the screen of her computer.

“Did you ever hear of a clown with teardrops streaming down his face?” he lamented over a grating electric guitar or fiddle or some such shit. Preach it, Alan Jackson, Delia thought grimly. At least it felt more apt than the even more nauseating Christmas tunes that had permeated the office in previous weeks.

“So, anyone have any New Year’s plans?” Jean asked shrilly, never missing a beat in her rapid-fire typing. She usually got through at least three stacks of order forms during the six-hour shift; Delia was lucky to finish one. But she was no worse than some of the other newer temps; only a few regulars could come close to Jean’s speed. That’s why they pay us the shitty bucks. Delia sighed and shook out her hands, then clasped them behind her back for a stretch.

A couple of the long-timers chattered about the parties and bars they planned to go to, while the newer ones mumbled half-heartedly. Delia didn’t bother to answer. She already stuck out like a sore thumb in the cluster of white ladies, mostly older than her, who all seemed like they came from one suburb or another; trying to say anything about her life would only make that more obvious. And god help her if she did try to befriend them; the first time one of them asked to touch her hair she’d lose it … and then lose the gig.

So she kept quiet and entered the rest of Mr. Ronny Johannson’s order of seemingly random catalog items—a reading light that clamped onto books, a pair of slippers, two artificial potted plants. She’d been entertained for the first couple hours of this temp job, imagining what the recipients and their homes were like, but the novelty had worn off almost immediately and now she just tried to keep a robotic—if not fast—pace until three hours into her shift, when she could slip upstairs in the darkened building to a breakroom—deserted on weekends—and drink another styrofoam cup of sludgy coffee that she tried to make palatable with multiple packets of sugar.

Her flip phone burbled from her purse and she lunged for it, turning the ringer volume all the way down as eyes bored into her. “Sorry,” she muttered. She shoved it back into her bag, but not before she saw the name pop up on the little lit-up screen: Teddy. The terrible coffee she’d gulped down at the beginning of her shift burned in her gut like acid. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.

“Well,” said one of the older women, in a supercilious tone like Delia’s phone had interrupted an important train of thought, “I’m not going out on New Year’s. You couldn’t pay me enough. I’m gonna sit home and watch CNN. The whole world’s goin’ to hell when this Y2K bug kicks in, ya know.”

There was a burst of excited chatter, both in agreement and skepticism, and Delia felt herself become invisible to them again. She exhaled with relief, glancing back at Jean to make sure she wasn’t getting the evil eye. But Jean was more interested in joining in the wide-ranging, ill-informed discussion of the probable outcome of the clock turning to midnight on the first day of 2000, her eyes flicking rhythmically back and forth between order form and screen as her fingers flew with unerring precision. Only Alan Jackson met Delia’s eyes, smiling smugly at her.

She hated his scraggly blond hair that almost reached the shoulders of his button-down shirts. She hated that the color reminded her of Ted’s hair…only his was straight and fine and constantly falling into his eyes. Leonardo DiCaprio, that’s who he reminded her of the first time she saw him. Leo gone to seed, she thought now, meanly, though truthfully she’d always liked Teddy’s belly, not a full-on beer gut but definitely a softening from what it probably had been in his high school football days. His face had a slight roundness too, almost a double chin happening, but his blue eyes and sweet smile could make her melt. Somewhere between dreamboat and teddy bear. She loved calling him Teddy, and he didn’t seem to mind.

Girl, what are you doing? She’d asked herself that several times when they started seeing each other about six months before. She’d thought she was done dating white guys once she’d gotten out of her stupid ninety-nine-percent-white small-town high school and come to the Twin Cities for college, and stayed because—while still pretty white—it was a far cry from where she’d been raised.

But he’d won her over. And now she was left, once again, futilely asking herself the same goddamn question: What the fuck are you doing?

Chapter 4

Driving between snowy mountains on I-90, Griff only slowly became aware of a grinding noise under the distorted guitar riffs filling the car. At about the same time, he noticed the smell of something burnt seeping through the air vents.

He switched the radio off. The sound got louder and his car slowed suddenly. He veered across two lanes of traffic to the rightmost lane, smoke now visible in wisps along the edges of the hood. A semi blared its horn at him as he crossed in front of it. He jammed his foot on the accelerator but the car only groaned and continued to lose velocity. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He pulled onto the shoulder and pounded the steering wheel.

A steady stream of cars and trucks zipped by him, barely slowing, as he popped the hood and got out. The smoke was now billowing, and he couldn’t wave it away fast enough to see what exactly was going on. Not that he’d know what to do about it if he could. He shut the hood against the cloud and it went back to seeping out through the cracks, though more heavily now. He dropped to the gravel-covered ground and leaned against the passenger side tire, burying his head in his arms.

He fumbled for his cigarettes and weighed his options. There weren’t many. He didn’t have the money for a tow, or the money or time for a repair. He didn’t know anyone nearby—he was about a mile from an exit to Missoula, Montana, somewhere he’d never been. The sun had set and cold was seeping into his bones from the ground. The wind was picking up and everything beyond the highway was covered in snow, though luckily it wasn’t snowing at the moment.

He had a phone that’d be good for a few more weeks, probably, until it got switched off for unpaid bills. But who could he call back in Seattle? He’d made promises he had no intention of even trying to keep, which meant every bridge was soon to be burned. Even in the short term, he’d already borrowed money from everyone he possibly could—what would he tell them he’d spent it on to explain why he had to ask for more? He wasn’t even in touch with anyone in Minneapolis except Rocky—and he knew without a doubt that his old stoner high school buddy would never have the wherewithal or the motivation to help him out of this predicament.

With sadness, Griff took the last pull on his cigarette and stubbed it out under his heel. Time to do something, anything.

He emptied his backpack of everything but the gloves and the plastic bag. Digging through trash bags, he found his black button-down, a couple T-shirts, his favorite jeans, and a few changes of socks and underwear, and stuffed it all in his backpack. He also found a half empty flask of whiskey.

He had room to spare in his pack now, but he couldn’t identify anything from the drift of stuff he’d thrown into his car—his college books now discarded on top of the other detritus of his life—as being any more significant or valuable than anything else. The longer he looked at it, the less he cared about any of it.

He looked at the flask and tossed his lighter consideringly in his other hand.

But, as satisfying in the moment as giving his worldly possessions a Viking funeral might be, he decided it could cause him more trouble down the road than just abandoning the car. It wasn’t even in his name; he’d bought it for less than a grand a few months before from a friend of an acquaintance and never bothered to get registration or insurance. Was there anything in the car’s contents that could identify him as its current owner? Yes, if anyone bothered to look hard enough. If it was found burning on the side of the road, the authorities might feel the need to investigate, but if it was merely broken down and abandoned, he hoped it’d just get towed to an impound lot to slowly rust into nothing.

So instead he swigged the last of the flask’s contents, put his lighter in his pocket, and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders. He wrapped his scarf around his neck, buttoned his coat and put on his gloves. He was already freezing, but maybe he’d warm up if he got moving.

Griff looked over the car one more time. The keys were still in the ignition and the hazards were still on. That seemed right. Hell, if someone could get it going they were welcome to steal the piece of shit.

He walked along the shoulder in the gathering dusk toward the exit sign he could see in the distance, its lettering flaring bright white in the headlights of each passing vehicle. Beyond that, the lights of Missoula, and more mountains towering behind them in the distance. It was a cold and foreign landscape, though in some other context he might have found it cool. He decided to treat himself to one more cigarette while he walked.

Chapter 5

“What up, Salt ’n’ Pepa?” Ted bounded into the conference room, wearing the amber sunglasses he often favored, even indoors and at night.

“Oh, you know.” Pepper tried to sound at least slightly less irritated than she was. “Just waiting for this meeting to start.”

“Dude.” Ted pushed his glasses up and gave her a pitying look before letting them fall again. “If you were at Hopper’s last night, you wouldn’t even be here. I bet half of Great Dane is passed out in his backyard right now, or in bed with some bimbo they don’t even know.”

Pepper had no good answer to that. Well, she had a plethora of great answers, but she knew from experience not to bother. Instead she straightened her papers and waited as her colleagues slowly shuffled in, in various states of disrepair from Hopper’s party.

“Okay, I think we have a quorum, so let’s get started,” she said at last, with a forced lightheartedness. “We’re here to kick off the concepting phase of the new Freedom Liquors campaign.”

“Heads up, Teddy!” Mike tossed a Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboy across the table. Ted barely caught it, fumbling as the others jeered, but finally secured it in his hand. He tapped it a few times but, when he opened it, it predictably foamed up and he had to seal his lips around the opening to keep from losing too much of it.

“Guys,” Pepper said, trying and probably failing to sound amused, “could we focus please?”

“Pepperoni,” Joey said reprovingly.

“Salt ’n’ Pepa,” Teddy mumbled again in a choked voice before forcing out a loud belch.

“Paprika-cita,” Mike said in a soothing tone. “We got this! Freedom Liquors?”

“But I barely know her!” Joey cried, so reliably that Pepper said the last three words with him, nodding and attempting to smile.

“Yeah, I know you got this, piece of cake. But guys, remember we’ve got someone new on the client side, right? And I think she’s really expecting a buttoned-up presentation, so …”

A chorus of groans, followed by a crash as Ted finished pounding his beer and threw it at the recycle bin.

“Yo, could you turn the bro dial down about twenty-five, thirty percent in here?” A voice from the doorway of the conference room got everyone’s attention.

Erik, one of Pepper’s fellow account execs, held the door open as he leaned in. The writers and designers in the room chuckled and muttered, but the hectic energy of the room settled slightly, to Pepper’s relief.

Erik looked at her with sympathy. “Mark told me to let you know he wants to see you when you have a second.” Her grateful smile at him faltered a little.

“Okay, I’m just finishing up here!” She smiled brightly and passed a stack of papers around the room. “Guys, here’s the creative brief. I know you’re gonna rock this, but let’s regroup some other time when everybody’s had a chance to recover from the holidays, okay? I’ll have Margaret set up some brainstorms so we can start to get our concepts nailed down.”

She kept a cheery smile plastered on her face while the men sauntered out of the room. She tucked her purple-tinged chin-length curls behind her ears, then released them and fluffed her hair, reminding herself to check her makeup in the bathroom before heading into her boss’s office.

Mark was reviewing mockups for an ad when she came in. He tossed them onto his desk. On the top page Pepper saw an image of a woman clad in a too-small sports jersey licking a hockey stick, her eyes closed. She read the first line of copy: Think hockey’s just for men?

“Good, huh?” Mark said. Pepper nodded and smiled robotically. “That’s our edgy concept. We’re gonna make them uncomfortable with that one, but you never know—they might end up picking it, it’s that good!”

He passed her and closed his door, then returned to the chair behind his desk. “Anyway, thanks for coming by, Pepper,” he said warmly. “Have a seat.” Mark’s smile was as bright as his silver hair, which was always gelled so it stuck up at all angles. Pepper had heard several of the admins gushing over him in the breakroom, and she supposed he was good-looking, but she didn’t like being alone with him. Not that ever he’d tried anything with her; he just put her on edge for some reason she couldn’t quite identify.

“Pepper, you’ve got the goods.” His eyes may have flicked subtly down but mostly stayed focused on hers. “You’re driven, you’re strategic, you’re smart as hell.”

“Thanks,” she said hesitantly.

“When you’ve got an account, I know it’s in good hands.”

“I appreciate that.” She cast her eyes down modestly, still not trusting what she was hearing.

“The only problem is, you’re not aggressive enough about going after new ones, you know? Great Dane’s not big enough for an outside sales department; we need all our AEs to be on the hunt at all times. You know?”

“Yeah, I know, but—” she bit her lip.

“What is it?”

But you hand Paul and Erik landed accounts all the time, she didn’t say.

“Well … it can be kind of hard to keep the creatives focused. It takes up a lot of my time.”

“Well, Pepper, I don’t know what to tell you. None of the other AEs seem to spend as much time managing their projects as you do. You might want to look at ways to … build rapport with your teams, you know?” He smiled encouragingly. “If you created efficiencies that way, you might find more time to land that new business.”

Pepper swallowed. “Okay, sure, I’ll try.”

“We operate lean, so I need everyone pulling their weight. I really want to keep you around, Pepper. You’ve got so much promise. You just need to deliver on it.” He leaned back in his chair and picked up the layouts again, signaling the end of their conversation.

Pepper smiled widely, blinking back tears. “You bet, Mark.”

“Great!” Pepper stood and walked to the door “Oh, hey, how’s the party planning going?”

“Super great,” she said with as much energy as she could muster, gripping the doorknob.

“Very cool. I can’t wait to see what you pull together!”

“It’s gonna be epic.” She blinked and nodded as if agreeing with herself.

“It better be!” he said cheerfully. Joking-not-joking.

Back at her cubicle, she waited until her breathing steadied. Then she tapped out an email. RSVP? said the subject line.

Hey Doug,

Loved talking to you the other day! I hope you can make it to the Great Dane New Year’s Eve party. It should really kick off around 10pm, but stop by whenever.

See you soon?

Pepper

She hovered over the send button, reading and rereading, then clicked it and pulled her hand away from the mouse as if she’d been burned.

Chapter 6

Delia loaded groceries into her hatchback and drove away from the store, reflecting on the rut she’d suddenly fallen into.

Without regular gigs, her social life was a fraction of what it had been. Especially since she’d been feigning illness, and avoiding Teddy, for nearly a week too.

She supposed she could call up a friend, but what would she say? She never spent much time at home and her friends were all club kids. They wouldn’t want to come over and drink chamomile tea and watch Jerry Maguire or whatever the fuck it was normal people did.

She wasn’t normal, and she didn’t have what she would’ve considered her old normal. Something would have to give sometime. But she couldn’t fathom DJing right now—it was a joyful side gig that she hoped would become her main line of business someday, but it was predicated on joy. In her current state it would have no meaning.

And going out, seeing her friends—what would she say, especially with her relationship in such weird limbo? She didn’t exactly advertise that she was dating a white guy, but plenty of people had seen her with Teddy, and it was probably a memorable sight. What if they asked after him? Would she be able to pretend all was well, or would she blurt out the truth?

What galled her the most was how hard he’d worked to entrap her in this whole mess. Why would he go out of his way to date her when there were probably legions of pretty little white girls in his ad agency world to go after? Why would he go to all that trouble to convince her that he was cool, that he wouldn’t be like the kind of asshole she’d resolved to stay far away from once she escaped her whitebread hometown? There was something surgically precise in the cruelty of the game he’d played. Maybe that’s why she was having a hard time getting over it.

Like a guilty man in a crime show who gives himself away by working too hard to seem innocent, Teddy had proven his own undoing. Delia wondered if she’d ever have found him out if he’d just kept his mouth shut. She shivered thinking about it. She wouldn’t have necessarily talked about her boyfriend to Ankala when they’d met. It could’ve gone on almost indefinitely if he hadn’t given her a reason to mention him.

But Teddy couldn’t take that chance, and as a result he’d hastened the demise of his scheme.

“I’d stay away from her if I were you.” That odd statement had been the beginning of it, though she wouldn’t acknowledge her uneasy intuition for weeks.

They’d been playing pool at a loud dive bar, their favorite in her neighborhood. Teddy always wanted to stay close to her place when they went out. Sometimes she found it slightly odd (though it made sense in retrospect), but she’d never questioned it. She wasn’t going to complain about how easy it was to go back to her place at the end of a night of drinking.

She wasn’t amazing at pool, but he was comically bad. He didn’t mind losing, though, so they played a lot. Between games, they sat at a little green formica-topped table that didn’t quite match the green of the pool table, and Delia talked. She didn’t often brag or even voice her aspirations, but Teddy made her feel confident and optimistic. The drinks helped too, of course. She was going on about her ambition to eventually become a fixture in the club scene; stop playing opening or supporting sets and become the main event. It was hard to get promoters to take her seriously, to view her as more than a novelty. Still, other women of color were appearing on the scene and she found that encouraging. When she wasn’t the go-to for tokenism, maybe he’d start to be seen for her talent instead.

That’s when she mentioned her interest in connecting with DJ Ankala, whom she’d never met or seen perform. Maybe they could help each other make even more connections. If nothing else, it’d be great to swap stories with her and maybe new ideas for how to break in.

That’s when Teddy had said it. “I’d stay away from her if I were you.”

Delia froze with her drink halfway to her mouth. “Really? Why?”

“Oh,” he said with what seemed at the time like reluctance, “I’ve just heard some things about her.”

“What things?”

Teddy shrugged. “You know, just things. Like she’s kind of a bitch, really hard to get along with. Kind of a backstabber, I guess. I just don’t think she’d be your kind of person.”

Delia frowned, perplexed. “But where did you—?”

“Lots of people,” Teddy said smoothly. “I don’t know her personally—it’s just what I’ve heard. But I wouldn’t want you risking your career if you get close with her and she ends up being, like, toxic.” He took her hand over the table. “You’re too fucking amazing for that to happen.”

She quickly forgot the conversation. Neither of them was much for PDA, but they were good at turning each other on with just a glance or a subtle touch while they were out in public, so they were soon stumbling back to her apartment. Teddy wasn’t maybe the most attentive or skilled lover she’d ever had, but he was fun and enthusiastic, and he made her feel like the most enchanting woman in the world. That night was no different.

But his comments came back to her later, nagging at her. She kept an ear out for other gossip about Ankala but never heard anything negative about her from anyone else. Had Teddy gotten some bad third-hand information, or did he know of a side to Ankala that no one else did? If so, how, since he said he didn’t know her?

She tried to bring it up with Teddy a few times, but he always seemed to lead them to another topic before she found out anything new. Delia couldn’t even seem to nail down how well he knew Ankala or where he’d heard these things about her.

When she saw the other DJ at a house party—neither of them working it—Delia found herself glancing at Ankala from the corner of her eye whenever she got a chance, searching for any glimpse of the toxic girl Teddy had talked about.

Curiosity overcame hesitation when she saw Ankala step onto the screened-in balcony alone. Delia followed her out.

Ankala looked over when she heard the door. She was holding a one-hitter fashioned like a cigarette and exhaled a thin haze of smoke. “Hey,” she said. “Want one?”

“Sure.” Ankala handed her the small metal cylinder and a wooden case. Delia dug the end of the one-hitter into the opening to pack it with a small amount of pot. She handed the case back in exchange for a lighter.

Ankala introduced herself. “And you’re DJ Dee, right?”

“Yeah, but call me Delia.”

“Delia. All right.”

They both stood quietly. Delia felt some hesitation from Ankala but not anything she would categorize as bitchy. It was unnerving to exchange pleasantries with her, but Delia gradually relaxed. They passed the onie back and forth, bonding over their struggle to break into the Twin Cities club scene. Ankala was from the East Coast originally and compared it to trying to make friends in Minnesota in general. “Land of ten thousand cliques,” she quipped, and Delia cracked up mid-hit, which triggered a coughing fit.

“Why the fuck would you come here in the first place?” she wondered aloud. For her, Minneapolis was the closest big city and had held a certain mystique when she dreamed about it from her prison of a hometown. Ankala had probably had five major cities within a few hours’ driving distance.

“Girl, why do you think?” Ankala wrinkled her nose.

“Oh … right,” Delia said. “He still around?”

“He’s around … just not around me anymore. I don’t even know why I’m still here, but … you know how it is.” She shrugged. “I got another man now, but that’s not why I stayed.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad we met.” Delia surprised herself at how much camaraderie she felt for someone she’d viewed with suspicion less than an hour ago. The weed was good and smooth and relaxed her without making her brain go on weird scattered tangents, as sometimes happened. “I thought … I wasn’t sure we’d get along.”

“What do you mean?” Ankala’s expression was inscrutable.

“Well …” Delia hesitated. Without an organized approach planned out, she blurted, “Do you know a guy named Ted? White guy … I mean with a name like Ted, in Minnesota, he’d have to be.” She laughed affectionately and offered the one-hitter.

But Ankala didn’t take it. She was staring at her, eyebrows knitting down … in thought? Anger? Delia couldn’t tell.

“Hold up,” Ankala said slowly. “Yo—what is this?” She took the metal cylinder and shoved it into the wood case, sliding the top on. Now Delia could sense growing anger. “Did you come here to fuck with me? Is this some kind of setup? Damn, he said you were cold, but this is some fucked-up shit. What you got against me anyway?”

It was Delia’s turn to look genuinely surprised. “What? No, I … listen, I just heard some shit about you and wanted to find out for myself, but you’re not like that. I know now. At least I think …”

“Heard some shit?” Ankala’s eyes flashed. “Well, you’re not the only one. I heard some shit too. I heard that you’re the type of bitch to do something like this, come fuck with someone, smoke their shit and then turn on them …” She took a deep breath and stepped back. “I am not going to do this at a friend’s house. I think you should just stay the fuck away from me from now on.”

“Wait!” Delia wondered if the weed was having more of an effect than she’d given it credit for. “I think somebody must be spreading fake stuff about both of us. I swear I’m not like that.”

“You’ve done something,” Ankala said. “My man wouldn’t’ve said anything unless you’ve done some fucked-up fake-ass shit.”

“Who’s your man?” Delia’s head spun.

“Ted? White dude?” Ankala smiled tightly. “Which you knew, obviously, but chose to be all fucked up about it.”

“Your man—” Delia sat down on a wicker loveseat, feeling distinctly unwell.

“Yeah, so you better—” Ankala trailed off, confused by Delia’s sudden change of demeanor.

Delia looked up. “Teddy—Ted—that’s my boyfriend’s name. He was the one that told me to stay away from you.” She felt a strange calm come over her. “You’re gonna hit me now, huh?” She closed her eyes and waited.

Instead she heard the seat creak next to her. “Well ain’t that some shit.” The fight was momentarily gone from Ankala’s voice.

Chapter 7

Griff’s fingers were stiff and aching, no matter what he did to try and bring some warmth back into them.

He alternated balling them up against his palms inside his gloves, sticking his gloved hands into his armpits, or occasionally taking a glove off and shoving the icy hand down the front of his coat. He reckoned he was staving off frostbite at least, but he could not get them to stop feeling cold.

Once he reached the exit ramp he gingerly walked its shoulder down to the road it merged onto, praying none of the cars that passed would hit a patch of ice and mow him down as it spun out of control.

He still seemed far from the city proper, but there were signs pointing both ways at the bottom of the exit ramp promising gas stations and fast food places, and he saw a tall illuminated sign to the right that looked closer, so he went that way. There still wasn’t a sidewalk, but the road was straight and the shoulder was wider, so he felt a lot less endangered than he had on the exit ramp. There was still the problem of his icy hands though, and his scarf was getting damp with his breath, then crusting over with frost in the wind. His toes had pretty much gone numb by now too.

He cursed his luck as he hurried toward the truck stop, which had looked so close but seemed to get farther away as he approached it. It reminded him of a time he’d walked from one casino to another in Las Vegas. Only he’d been warm, and drunk, and constantly passing by even drunker women in low-cut tops, and …

He stopped thinking about that. It was too painful to remember carefree times when he was trying to cope with this crisis. Instead he set his eyes grimly on the lit-up sign and put one foot in front of the other. His eyes watered in the wind, and the tears froze in his eyelashes.

He finally reached the driveway of the truck stop and started up a slight hill toward the building, which sported a McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, and gas station convenience store. He thought about his scant funds and weighed his few options for spending as little as possible while getting as warm as possible and buying time to plan his next move.

He opted for the McDonald’s, where he could at least sit down for a little while. The parking spots in front of it were nearly all taken, so hopefully it’d be busy enough that the workers wouldn’t notice him nursing a small coffee for an inordinate length of time.

The blandly bright plastic surfaces hurt his eyes as he came in, but the warmth was immediate and desperately welcomed by his numb flesh. He joined a short line to the counter, his skin stinging and his muscles aching as feeling returned to them. He unlooped his defrosting scarf, now sodden with melting condensation. Thefrozen tears in his eyelashes had also returned to liquid form, blurring his vision. He rubbed his eyes.

“You look rough, kid.”

He looked behind him. A man smiled kindly at him from under an orange and navy blue stocking cap emblazoned with “Broncos.” He pulled off the hat and stuffed it in his pocket, revealing graying brown hair.

Griff laughed, still rubbing his hands and stamping his feet. “I feel rough.”

“What happened to ya?”

“I just walked about three miles. I got stranded on the highway.”

The man shook his head sympathetically. “You gonna get a tow?”

The line ahead moved, and Griff and the man shuffled forward. Griff explained his situation, naturally adding some embellishments, though it wasn’t a story that needed many. The man, who introduced himself as Marty, made concerned noises throughout and then offered to buy his coffee, and a burger if he wanted one. Hope flared in Griff. It was looking almost too easy.

They grabbed a booth together and continued their conversation as they ate. Marty was on his way home from a sales route he took once a month. “People keep talking about email,” he said, “but my customers still count on that visit from me. It’s how I keep ’em.”

As luck would have it, he was heading to Billings, the exact direction Griff wanted to go, and offered a ride without Griff even having to hint at it. Griff polished off the last bite of his cheeseburger with pleasure; Mickey D’s wasn’t his favorite but right now the bitter tang of the limp pickle slice on his tongue was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He took his half empty coffee cup—nah, it’s half full, he thought to himself with amusement—and followed Marty out into the cold. A few errant snowflakes fluttered through the air, but it didn’t look like it’d turn into anything serious. Griff’s extremities tingled with the memory of their previous miserable state, but now he took comfort in knowing they wouldn’t have a chance to get that cold again.

Marty drove a light blue eighties-era sedan. The back seat was half full of cases with handles and a few file boxes of folders, but it was neat and organized compared with the chaotic mountain of stuff Griff had left behind in his broken-down car.

Marty popped the locks and got in, scooping plastic snack wrappers from the passenger side and dumping them into a bag that hung on a hook attached to his seat back. The front seat of his car was otherwise tidy, with an air freshener shaped like a pine tree dangling from his rearview mirror.

Griff unslung his backpack from his shoulder and deposited it at his feet as he got in. Marty pulled onto the eastbound highway.

Griff slid the seat back and reclined it a few inches, his whole body becoming languid as tension drained away. “Mind if I smoke?” He reached for his pocket.

“Actually—” Marty started, and Griff’s hand stopped. Marty fished around in his own pocket and offered Griff a small clear plastic cylinder with a red cap that held a couple dozen toothpicks. “I quit about a year ago, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t. But those things help me when I have a craving. Keep the pack—I got a bunch more.”

“Thanks.” Griff politely opened it, releasing a cinnamon scent that momentarily replaced the car’s faint artificial pine smell in his nostrils, and extracted a toothpick. He stuck it halfway in his mouth and rolled it over his tongue, flooding it with spicy flavor. His lips burned slightly wherever the protruding toothpick made contact.

“Cravings aren’t that bad anymore, really,” Marty continued. “I can be around someone smoking and it doesn’t drive me crazy. It’s just the smell I’m tryin’ to avoid. The wife made me quit. I used to only smoke when I was traveling, figured it wouldn’t bother her, but she said she could smell it all over me when I got home so it was just as bad as if I was still smoking around her.” He glanced over at Griff. “I didn’t believe it could be that bad, but once I’d quit for a while, guess my nose adjusted, and now I know what she means. I can smell it on you, kid.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Naw, it’s okay. I don’t mind it, but like I say, I don’t like to be around someone smoking because if the wife smells it on me when I come home, she’ll get mad. I stay away from diners and bars when I’m getting close to home—Mickey D’s is no-smoking these days so that’s one of the safe places for me to go.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind stopping, if you get to where you’re really jonesing and want to smoke one outside the car.”

“Oh no, I don’t need one that bad,” Griff said. “Thanks though.”

Marty looked over again. “You seem like a nice kid,” he said. Griff was sourly amused at being called that. Would turning thirty be like flipping a magic switch, he wondered, when older people would stop thinking he was still young and start viewing him as one of their own? He’d find out soon enough. “How’d you get in this scrape anyway?”

How indeed? Griff’s memory wandered bitterly over the past decade. Ten years of hustling to achieve exactly nothing. Every job he talked his way into, he was unequipped to do and soon lost. Every money-making scheme evaporated before his eyes. Every band he joined, whether as guitarist or manager or roadie, seemed to end in drama or peter out—or forced him out.

His last group, Occam’s Cat, for whom he’d worn several hats including backup electric guitar, had played to nearly empty clubs for about six months before disbanding. The Seattle grunge scene was a shadow of its former self, yet oversaturated with so many bands it was impossible for new ones to break in. He’d secured a couple gigs in Portland that hadn’t gone any better than the hometown shows, and he’d burned bridges with club owners by vastly exaggerating the popularity of Occam’s Cat.

And now, when he felt nearly tapped out, an opportunity dangled in front of him in Minneapolis. It seemed almost too good to be true, but if it worked out, he’d never have to hustle as hard ever again.

“Things didn’t work out in Seattle,” he said simply to Marty. “I’m going home.”

Chapter 8

Pepper knocked snow off her boots and stood in the doorway, scanning the coffee shop, which was dim like a dive bar despite the cold bright sun outside, and loud with conversation and a thumping bass.

She spotted Kevvy in a corner booth. He shouted a greeting when he noticed her and jumped up to grab her tight hug.

“Hi honey!” She kissed his cheek then went to the counter.

“It’s been ages,” he said dramatically when she came back. “You have to catch me up on the latest drama at D&D Advertising.”

She pretended to think. “Let’s see—Heather Locklear hasn’t taken over yet and no one’s been murdered in the Melrose Place pool, so it’s kinda dull.”

Her smile faded as she stirred a packet of sugar into her latte. “Honestly? I feel like I’m out of a job unless I land a new account soon. I can’t figure out how to break into this boys’ club—how’d you do it?”

Kevvy sighed. “Girl. We could unpack the fucked-up-edness of the ad world for days, but you want the short version? Once they figure out I’m not gonna hit on them, they’re cool with me. In fact it’s great to have a guy on their team they don’t have to compare dick sizes with. But women? That’s a whole other thing. These assholes think they can have it all—objectify y’all and call it empowerment, and they get to stay on top. A chick who’s actually better at shit than they are, and also hot, makes their primitive brains all confused and defensive.” He focused on clinking his spoon around his mostly empty cappuccino mug, then looked up. “Is that too much truth for a Wednesday?”

Pepper shook her head. “No, that kind of truth is exactly what I need right now. Believe me.” Hopelessness overtook her. “Because I cannot seem to crack the code of how to charm, impress, intimidate, and seduce them all at once. It’s a losing game, isn’t it?”

Kevvy shrugged. “I mean, women have done it before, so you know it’s not impossible. It’s just—how much bullshit are you willing to put up with? I don’t see this industry fixing itself anytime soon.”

She sat up straighter. “It doesn’t bother me most of the time, really. It just gets frustrating not being able to get anywhere. But here’s the thing.” She leaned forward. “You know Doug Davidson? WeDotTech?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him.” Kevvy looked confused. “He gets around. Why?”

“Figured you would—you know everybody. Well, I met him at a party the other day. He’s getting so much money from angel investors he can’t spend it fast enough. But he doesn’t know shit about advertising. Not a goddamn clue.” She sat back, tapping the table restlessly. “He needs it, though, or WeDotTech is going the fuck down at some point. Not just a couple ads, either—he needs a whole fucking strategy. And he needs someone who’s going to take care of everything for him, because he doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know.” She took a deep breath and gulped her coffee. “So I invited him to the party, and he said he’s coming! Says he wants to talk to me some more!”

Kevvy nodded slowly. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, huh? So what do you need from me?”

“Information.” Pepper set her mug down harder than she meant to. “I can’t afford to fuck this up or I’m probably toast at Great Dane. I need to nail this account. And I need to do it without anyone at work knowing, because Mark has this cute trick where he gives most new business to any other AE besides me and then accuses me of not being proactive enough. Basically, I need to ingratiate myself so much that Doug Davidson wouldn’t consider another account rep to handle his shit.”

“Well, it sounds like a ballsy move. I don’t know him personally but I know plenty of people who do. What do you want?”

“What can I do to catch his attention?”

“Like I said, I don’t know him. But when I hear about him, it’s usually tied to some crazy party.” Kevvy made a face. “He kind of likes acting like a high roller. You know. Coke. Ecstasy. VIP tables at clubs. Lots of chicks around him all the time. That kind of typical scenester thing.”

Pepper sighed. “Like my coworkers on steroids, basically.”

“Kind of,” Kevvy agreed. “But, at least that means if you want to appeal to him on his level, you know exactly how guys like him operate. I guess, you know, better the devil you know?”

Pepper nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ve got to get that DJ for my party, for one thing.” She shot off a text to Becket to see if he’d gotten her contact information yet. “I should probably, like, try to score some X or something, huh? I’ve never actually done that. Do you know anyone?”

“Girl, please. Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course I know people. Well, I know people who know people. I’m on it.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Pepper’s phone beeped and she looked down. “And Beck’s got that DJ’s number, so I gotta find somewhere quiet and talk to her.” She drained the rest of her latte and put her winter gear back on. “What do you think the chances are of her not having a New Year’s Eve gig?”

“I’ll pray for you, girlfriend.” Kevvy made the sign of the cross with a flourish.

“Thanks girlfriend,” Pepper called over her shoulder as she hurried out.

Chapter 9

Delia listened to the voicemail for the fifth time. Her heart raced. It was too perfect.

She’d almost deleted it halfway through, the first time she’d heard it. She wasn’t taking any DJ gigs, not now, no thank you. But as she took the phone away from her ear to hit the 7 button, she thought she’d heard something, a familiar name. She replayed the message. “For Great Dane … we’re an ad agency in …” She missed the rest a second time as her mind reeled.

On the third try she heard the entire message. Pepper McLean, DJ gig for New Year’s Eve, willing to pay a premium, for Great Dane, an ad agency in downtown Minneapolis.

Great Dane.

Delia had never been to Teddy’s work—she now understood why, of course—but she knew the name of the place. She’d only met a handful of his coworkers at parties or shows, never a girl named Pepper, or any women from the agency. Teddy’s work crowd was all male as far as she knew. Kind of crass and immature, too. Teddy acted up a little around them but she didn’t mind too much; she knew what it was like to put on a different face for different parts of your life. He was sweet to her and generally respectful when they were alone, and she’d (until recently, of course) assumed that was his real self.

And now she was being asked to DJ his office’s party. Pepper said she’d gotten Delia’s name from the cute guy who hosted karaoke at her favorite bar, Becket. So it was possible—probable—that Pepper didn’t know she and Teddy were dating. Which also meant it was possible he didn’t know she was being asked to DJ.

As far as he knew, she was sick with the flu and possibly contagious. She didn’t really need to embellish her story any more than that; she’d realized he could easily be led to run his mouth. Besides, he didn’t tend toward long phone conversations; he mainly wanted to let her know he loved her, he missed her, he couldn’t wait to touch her all over, and so on and so on. Delia rolled her eyes while he talked and wondered if he was especially horny now that Ankala was also unavailable to him.

She missed thinking everything was all right, but she no longer missed him. Her physical longing as she’d first started to process what had happened had given way to a visceral revulsion when she thought of him.

She didn’t want him any more. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

Well. Obviously she wanted some kind of revenge. Otherwise she wouldn’t’ve implored Ankala to keep their revelation a secret for a little while. The easiest thing would’ve been to break up with him and go on with her life.

She and Ankala had compared their sides of the story with disbelief at how hard he’d worked. The things he’d told them about one another to discourage them from seeking each other out. The careful way he must’ve managed his social life, making sure to go out with one when the other had a gig. The different regular haunts he took each of them to. It was actually quite impressive, Delia admitted, for a guy who always seemed a little scattered. He’d chosen a nearly impossible task—two-timing women who were almost inevitably going to cross paths at some point—and carried it out successfully for months.

He’d started dating Ankala about a month after her. Right when he’d started acting more serious toward her, he’d asked Ankala out for the first time. Delia remembered the chocolates and flowers he’d given her for what he called their “one month anniversary”; she’d teased him for being so sentimental but had felt butterflies in her stomach. That little gesture lowered her defenses about dating him more than she cared to admit.

“Was it a dozen yellow roses and a box of truffles from that fancy place in the IDS building?” Ankala asked when Delia related that.

Her eyes widened as her heart fell. “White roses, but yeah.”

Ankala nodded calmly, but her eyes burned. “One month anniversary. That really got me. Who does that?”

Ankala had been all for a swift and sudden confrontation, a breakup phone call from both of them the night they met. Delia pleaded for time. She’d never felt this level of anger. She didn’t want to respond to such a cold and calculated betrayal with impulsive emotion. It was already growing inside her that first night, this hunger for some kind of revenge. Even if it was just giving him the kind of shock he’d given them.

The first idea that occurred to her was that they could start cheating on him with other guys, then dump him. But bringing someone else into a twisted game, hurting and misleading them to punish Teddy for hurting and misleading her, would feel like she was just being an asshole like him. Besides, she couldn’t imagine mustering up the confidence to hit on someone from the pit of sadness she found herself in. But she wanted to do something besides yell at him on the phone.

Despite her regular conversations with Ankala—who’d started to feel like a friend—she hadn’t come up with any way to punish him. It felt like she was punishing herself instead, cutting herself off from the nightlife and other people outside her temp jobs.

Ankala had agreed to hold off confronting Teddy, “because I like you, girl, even though I think you’re crazy.” She manufactured her own varied, increasingly creative excuses for not going out with him, and related them to Delia with grim amusement. But she continued to have gigs; she told Delia repeatedly that she was letting him win if she ruined her own life like this. Delia didn’t disagree, but she seemed to have no strength in her to do anything except go through the barest motions of regular existence.

But as she listened to Pepper’s message, now for the sixth time, her energy started to come back to her. Along with the seed of an idea. She called Ankala, and they spoke for a long time. Then she called Pepper back.

Chapter 10

A strange sound permeated his dream, in which his car had started to break down. As he watched the dashboard and the odd sound grew louder, the instruments and steering wheel started to wobble, as if made out of jello, and stretch and distort. He looked down and the floor had already fallen away; his feet being perched on the gas pedal and clutch was all that saved them from dragging along the fast-moving blacktop below him.

Just then the seat lost whatever precarious attachment it had to the car. His stomach flipped as he plummeted to the asphalt.

Griff jerked awake in the passenger seat of Marty’s car, his heart pounding against his sternum like it was trying to get out. The sound his dream-car had been making continued.

He became more alert and identified the source. It wasn’t Marty’s car. It was Marty.

“You okay, man?” Griff asked uneasily; the sky had gone black while he was asleep and he couldn’t see the driver clearly in the faint glow of his dashboard controls.

Marty snuffled. “Yeah,” he said in a strangled voice. “Just thinkin’.” He wiped his eyes and nose with his coat sleeve and Griff thought he could see a glimmer of snot smeared on it as Marty lowered his arm, though he couldn’t really be sure.

Marty cleared his voice and continued. “It’s hard sometimes, drivin’ by myself at night. That’s one of the reasons I gave you a ride. Sometimes I wish I had company so I wouldn’t think so much.”

“What’s wrong?” Griff asked tentatively, not sure he really cared or wanted to find out.

“It’s Rosie.” Marty gave a heavy sigh. “Rosemary, that’s my wife.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s—well, she’s not sick or anything like that, don’t worry. She’s doing okay. It’s just—things haven’t been so great between us lately.”

Griff suddenly wondered about Marty’s story that he’d been visiting customers. Would they really be scheduling business meetings on Christmas Eve and Christmas, or even the week before or after? Even if they did, would they expect an out-of-town sales rep to drive hours to see them so close to the holidays?

“I’m—sorry to hear that, Marty.” He tried to think of things to say that wouldn’t upset the man any more than he was. “You know, this can be, like, an emotional time of year. Maybe she’ll get over it.”

He watched Marty’s face guardedly and thought he saw a little smile. “Yeah,” Marty said, sounding relieved. “Maybe you’re right.” He sniffled again and sat up straighter. “Thanks, kid.”

“No problem.” Griff relaxed a little. “We, uh, getting close to Billings?”

“Yessir!” Marty was back to his cheerful self. “Should be getting there in about half an hour. You need a place to stay for the night?”

Griff considered it. There was no easy answer. On the one hand, the doubt he suddenly felt about what was really going on in Marty’s life made him want to get away as soon as possible; he didn’t know how tense or weird things would be between him and his wife. On the other, it was cold outside and he didn’t want to use up all his cash on one night in a hotel—if he could even find one that cheap. He wondered if he’d be able to find somewhere heated or at least sheltered from the wind to catch a couple hours of sleep and wait for morning, when he’d be slightly more likely to convince someone to let him hitch a ride.

“I should try to keep moving, but … if I can’t find a ride tonight, could I, like, call you?”

“You sure can, kid, and I’d be happy to come and get you. I appreciate you bein’ here for me like this.”

“Cool, thanks man.” Griff felt Marty was overstating his role of the past couple hours but kept his thoughts to himself. “If you could just drop me off in downtown, or maybe near a gas station might be better? Wherever you think I might find people who are passing through.”

“Yep, I know a good place to take you where a lot of people fill up their cars before they head east.” Marty put on his turn signal and took the next exit. “I gotta make one quick stop first. It’s right on the way. Then I’ll give you my number and drop you off.”

Griff thanked him again and watched idly out the window, silently congratulating himself for defusing whatever breakdown the man might have been about to have, giving himself an out to not spend any more time with him than he had to, but also not acing himself out of spending the night at his place if he ran out of other options.

They turned down one darkened suburban street after another. The only illumination coming from the houses were Christmas lights still twinkling and bluish TV screens flickering through windows. Marty pulled up to a corner, turned his headlights off, and inched forward, finally parking in front of a darkened house halfway down the street. Marty peered through the windshield. Griff followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything special about the house, or any sign of life.

“All right, I think this is it.” Marty unfastened his seatbelt and started to open the door, then hesitated. “Kid, you mind waitin’ in the driver’s seat while I’m gone? In case we wanna get going right away, you know.”

“Uhh.” Griff stalled. The request didn’t make any sense, and that worried him. But so did potentially upsetting Marty. And so did the thought of running away from the car in the winter night, in the middle of a strange suburb, with no idea where the closest gas station, restaurant, or store was. His self-congratulation suddenly seemed premature. “Sure, Marty.”

He clicked his own seatbelt open and stepped out into the bracing wind, gingerly closing the door so it didn’t make too much noise on the quiet residential street. Walking around to the driver’s side, he got in but didn’t buckle up. He peered at Marty through the open door.

“Thanks again, kid. You’ve been real good to me. Now, if anything should happen to me, I want you to take my car and go. Got it?” The words sent a chill down Griff’s spine, but he nodded with outward calm, hoping Marty was just being melodramatic and overstating whatever mess he was about to get into.

Marty closed the door for him and headed toward the house he’d been staring at. He walked over the lawn and up a couple stairs to a small cement porch that was really more of a landing ringed with a wrought iron railing. He paused to peer into the large front window.

After what felt like an eternity to Griff, the man slowly opened the glass outer door, keeping it open with his shoulder while he tried the wooden inner door. It seemed to be unlocked. Marty disappeared into the darkened house, leaving the wood door open and letting the glass one close softly behind him, and Griff was alone, entirely at a loss as to where they were, what Marty was doing, and what he should do. He gripped the steering wheel and eyed the keys that dangled from the ignition.

He didn’t have to wait long. He thought he heard a muffled scream and strained his ears to try and hear more. A light went on, not in the front window but one at the right end of the house.

He turned the key partly in the ignition so he could roll down the passenger window. Now he could hear shouting. His heart pounded and his hand hovered on the keys.

A loud bang made Griff jump, and a woman screamed. Another inside light came on, closer to the front door.

Then something or someone crashed against the glass door. Griff saw Marty’s coat-clad back pressed against it. He slammed into the glass again, and the door flew open, its catch giving way with a metallic shriek. Marty stumbled backward out onto the porch. A hulking figure followed, and Griff thought he saw something long and black clutched in the other person’s hands.

Marty stumbled down the front steps. He stopped and turned back toward the other man, stretching his hands out. Griff couldn’t tell what he was saying but he seemed to be trying to reason with the man.

A woman came to doorway, where the ruined glass door hung crookedly from half its hinges. She was wearing pastel-colored pajamas and her shoulder-length hair was in disarray. She clutched herself and stayed inside, but Griff could hear her voice, shrill and pleading, even though he couldn’t make out her words either.

“I’ll kill you!” That came from the strange man, and Griff heard it crystal clear. Marty finally turned and started running, slowly and clumsily, toward the car. The man raised his gun—Griff could now confirm that’s what it was—and fired.

The sound was loud and flat and felt uncomfortably close. Griff didn’t hear anything hit the car, but he turned the key all the way, starting the sedan’s engine. Lights came on in other houses, but Griff barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Marty.

Without warning the man went sprawling on the snow-covered lawn. For an awful split second, Griff thought Marty had been shot, but there had been no accompanying bang, so he must’ve tripped. Still, he was momentarily winded and the armed man was trying to follow him. The woman clutched his shoulders, still talking in her shrill voice, but he shook her off and she pressed her hands to her mouth instead. The man barreled down the steps.

Griff’s hand hovered over the gear shift. He pictured driving away from the whole mess. Then, instead, he was out of the car and racing across the sidewalk to where Marty was still trying to stand. Griff grabbed one of his arms to heave him upright. Marty was much too heavy, but the assistance helped him stagger to his feet. Another shot slapped the air with its flat angry sound. Griff hunched his shoulders, heart pounding so hard he almost felt dizzy. But he kept hold of Marty’s arm and pulled him to the car, then ran to the driver’s side and got in.

With shaking hands he threw the car into drive, then waited an eternity until Marty had heaved himself into the passenger seat. Griff pulled away before the door was even closed, fumbling for the headlight switch but failing to find it in his panic, so he navigated using streetlights (and porch lights of wakened neighbors) until he got several blocks away. He pulled over, now glad he hadn’t put on the headlights, and powered the windows down to listen for any signs of them being followed. Other than the hammering of his own blood in his ears, the neighborhood was silent and peaceful-seeming once again.

He closed the windows and turned to Marty, whose head lolled on the back of the seat. He didn’t seem hurt, just dazed. “What the fuck, Marty?” Griff said, somewhere between angry and incredulous, adrenaline still rushing. “What the fuck, man!”

Marty didn’t answer, except to start sobbing again.

Chapter 11

“And the Wichita lineman … is still on the line …” Becket finished the song, drawing out the last note, to a smattering of polite applause. It was one of his favorite songs to fill space with early on, while the bar was pretty empty and people were still flipping through binders and lubricating their nerves.

He checked the red plastic french fry basket on the table next to him. During his song he’d nodded encouragingly at a few people as they sidled up and dropped slips of paper into it. “All right, next up we have Shannon. Derek and Frank, you’re on deck. Come on up, Shannon!”

A curvy girl with chunky blond highlights in her brown pigtailed hair approached his stand, hips switching confidently. He handed the mic to her with a smile and started the song. A ubiquitous three-note bass piano motif rang out through the small bar, and Shannon struck a cute pose of exaggerated innocence as the first few lines appeared on her monitor. “Oh baby baby,” she growled, in a fair imitation of Britney Spears, and was off and running, tearing through the song to cheers from the small crowd. Becket perched on his stool and cued up the other two song requests from the red basket.

He didn’t see Delia in the audience. Actually he hadn’t seen her for a couple weeks, since before he’d recommended her to Pepper. He missed her; she was the best kind of karaoke singer, good but not too serious. She usually came alone, so sometimes she’d ask him to duet and he’d gamely fumble his way through “Love Will Keep Us Together” or “I Got a Man.”

Pepper hardly ever came at all; karaoke wasn’t really her thing, and when Becket was hosting he couldn’t spend much time with her. He liked all the microcosmic moments with the singers, alternately reassuring, cheering for, and joking with them, but overall it was a solitary job. The main benefit was people watching.

Shannon finished her song to more cheers, especially from her table of friends. Becket called up Derek and Frank, who’d clearly had a fair amount to drink already. They launched into a shouty rendition of “Sister Christian.” That happened more often since Boogie Nights had brought the song to people’s attention again.

At the end of the night, he helped cover some of the equipment and carry other pieces into the back room of the bar. He’d had one beer at the beginning of the night and now he had another. Becket had been hosting off and on for three years, so by now his favorite bartender Caroline knew to pour him one before last call, whether or not he got around to requesting it.

“How’s tricks?” Caroline was in her fifties, with obviously dyed red hair and gray roots. Her voice was all static and gravel from decades of pack-a-day.

“Win some, lose some.” One of his standard replies.

“You still with that girl? With the purple hair and the thing in her nose? I ain’t seen her around in a while.”

“Pepper,” he said patiently. “Yeah, we’re still seeing each other. How about you?” He half listened as she launched into a spirited diatribe against her latest beau, who couldn’t hold down a job yet resisted doing anything around the house. Her love life was always more exciting than his, or at least more dramatic.

Especially lately, with party preparations taking up so much of Pepper’s time. Even when she was with him she tended to be preoccupied. He missed how they’d been during the past summer and fall. Whenever Pepper didn’t have to work all weekend, or when it was something she could take with her, they’d escape together. They often spent weekends at his lakeside cabin a couple hours northwest of the Cities, or on the boat he kept docked on the St. Croix River near Stillwater.

Being able to be together several days at a time—repeatedly—without wanting to kill each other was an important milestone several of his previous relationships had fallen short of. The effortless enjoyment of being with Pepper was more exciting to him than fights or power struggles or the nerve-wracking suspense of first dates.

And yet. He felt like Pepper was keeping him at arm’s length. She thanked him whenever he did something for her in a way that sounded like she thought it was an imposition on him. She usually insisted on paying for her own dinner when they went out. She seemed almost puzzled whenever he tried a romantic gesture or started hinting about having deeper feelings.

He chalked it up to her being younger than him. She didn’t want to necessarily get serious too soon, he told himself. And he wasn’t entirely transparent with her either, so he couldn’t fault her if she wanted to hold something back from him. Still, the way she looked at him sometimes, or leaned into a long kiss, made it feel like more. It could be wishful thinking on his part; it scared him a little to imagine going back to life without her.

An idle thought occurred to him, then quickly gathered momentum.

He shook himself back to the here and now before Caroline could start to suspect he wasn’t really listening to her. He finished his beer, suddenly eager to leave so he could think more clearly about the plan that was forming.

Chapter 12

For several minutes, the silence in the car was broken only by Griff’s heavy breathing and Marty’s sobs.

“What now?” Griff finally asked, unable to articulate any of the million questions running through his head.

Marty shook his head, his eyes wet and wounded. “I don’t know, kid. I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

Griff sighed. “You want a coffee?”

“Yeah.” Marty made no move to take over driving again. Instead he directed Griff until they arrived at a Denny’s.

Ensconced in a plastic booth, Marty slumped dejectedly. Starving now that the adrenaline of the ordeal was subsiding, Griff ordered a side of fries with his coffee, the cheapest food item on the menu, and tried to make them last as he wondered what to do. He felt even more wary of Marty now. But also strangely protective.

He broke the long silence. “What was all that back there?”

Marty heaved a sigh, still staring at his white mug. “That was my wife.”

Griff had been afraid of that. “Jesus, man, I’m sorry. How did you know she was cheating on you?”

“Well …” Marty seemed reluctant. “I mean, she was my wife. She left me, last March I guess.” He finally met Griff’s eyes. “I got an apartment out in Missoula. I was doin’ all right, I thought, but … this first Christmas without her …” His voice thickened with tears again. “It was harder than I was ready for, and I guess I kinda … I don’t know what I was thinkin’. That if I could just talk to her, she’d take me back?” He sniffed. “I knew she’d moved and put our old house up for sale. I had to have her address for all the divorce stuff, you know? I guess I didn’t wanna believe she moved in with another man.”

He forced the last few words out, his voice getting higher-pitched before he trailed off. Griff glanced around and saw that the audible sobs had attracted several people’s attention, though most of them tried to be subtle in their glances. A waifish girl sitting at a booth alone at the other end of the room, however, was staring openly. Griff’s face got a little hot.

“That really blows, man,” he said inadequately. “I, uh, wish there was something I could do. Is there somewhere you can stay? Do you still have the house?”

Marty shook his head mournfully. “Already sold.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders for the first time since they’d come in. “You already did a lot for me, kid. Hell, you saved my life back there! You don’t have to worry about me. I’m gonna head back to Missoula; should be home before the sun comes up. I really do travel for work a lot, so that’s nothin’ for me. But what about you? What are you gonna do?” His eyes brightened. “You could come back and stay with me for a little while, til you get on your feet. I got a pullout couch in the living room. It’s the least I can do.”

Griff shook his head. “I gotta get to Minneapolis. I have—a job lined up. I’ll be fine once I get there. Thanks though. I appreciate the thought, man.”

“I wish I could buy you a plane ticket there, but money’s been a little tight for me lately,” Marty said sadly.

Griff wished he could too. But he smiled with fake bravado. “Nah, that’s all right. I know I’ll get there one way or another!”

Marty stood and pulled out his wallet. “Well, I’ll at least buy your snack for you, how’s that?” He handed a twenty to Griff and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll never forget you, kid.”

Left alone, Griff stared into space, dazed by the day’s events, until something caught his attention. The skinny girl was still looking at him. As their eyes locked, she smiled and—so subtly he almost missed it—beckoned with one finger.

Chapter 13

“Shit!” Pepper slammed the phone down and put her face in her hands. Kevvy had struck out yet again in his search for a connection for ecstasy, which she’d already hinted in an email to Davidson that she’d be able to provide. Her window of opportunity was shrinking, and it seemed every dealer had already sold out of their supply for New Year’s.

“You okay?” She looked up to see Erik’s sympathetic face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She could tell he didn’t believe her. “Actually …” She took a deep breath. “Wanna go grab a coffee downstairs?”

They sat in a corner of the coffeeshop on the first floor of their building, which featured floor to ceiling windows that faced out onto the street. Outside the day was gray, the gutters and edges of the sidewalk clogged with dirty ice and snow. Erik brought two lattes to the table and set one down in front of Pepper.

“I heard about what went down with Mark the other day,” Erik said gravely.

Pepper winced. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Some kind of ultimatum or something, right? For the record I think it’s bullshit. You’re the most badass AE in our whole company. I don’t say this very often, but Mark is way off base on this.”

To her chagrin, Pepper felt her lips tremble as a lump rose in her throat. “Thanks Erik.” Her voice quavered so she lowered it to a whisper. “Shit. I don’t know why I’m getting all emotional. I guess I don’t … hear anything like that very often.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He set his cup down, came close, and put an arm around her. She leaned against him for a second, then straightened up and wiped under her eyes in an attempt to salvage her makeup.

“I’m okay. Sorry.” She sniffled.

“I don’t blame you. You’re in a shitty position. If there’s anything I can do to help — ”

“No. Well …” She hesitated. “Maybe I can run something by you?”

“Sure thing!” Erik listened intently as Pepper told him about Davidson.

“So what do you think?” she asked. “Is this as big an opportunity as I think it is? And do you think Great Dane can handle this account if I land it?”

Erik whistled admiringly. “I knew you were badass! Yeah, I think it’s a killer plan, and it could be huge if Davidson goes for it.”

“Yeah, if.” Pepper’s confidence disintegrated as reality set in. “I just need to make sure I impress the fuck out of him while not screwing up any detail of this party. If I can do both of those things simultaneously then maybe Mark’ll let me keep my job.” She reflected glumly on the seeming impossibility of it.

“You can do it. I know you can.” Erik thought for a second. “You just need to make sure you grab his attention right away. Make, like, an unbelievable first impression.”

“Yeah? And how am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know, like …” He hesitated. “Well, I know you never, like, play up your looks to get things at work. You’re not like that at all. But from what you say, this guy is kind of a playboy type, right?”

She laughed a little, though the last of her tears hadn’t even dried on her cheeks. “Yeah, probably wants to be just like Hef.”

“So why don’t you turn that to your advantage? I mean, you know that you’re, like, smoking hot. What if you really grabbed his attention, like, with a costume kind of like a Playboy bunny? But then, the second you started talking, he’d realize how smart you are. Being able to, like, own your sex appeal in a really confident way and lay out a sick strategic plan for his company? That’d impress the shit out of someone like him, I bet.”

Pepper nodded slowly, considering. “Yeah … I can kind of see that. A Playboy bunny but with an edge. Like, futuristic, kind of dark, you know? So it didn’t read like just a costume.”

“That sounds amazing, actually,” Erik said.

“I don’t have much time to pull it off, but I think I could do that.” She looked intently at him. “Be honest, though, am I selling my soul if I do something like this? Seems like a cheap trick.”

“No, are you kidding? It’s smart. Everyone in advertising uses whatever weapons they have to play the game—you shouldn’t hold back out of some sense of, like, honor or something. Do you think Mark got where he is by being honorable? I mean, the dude’s my hero, professionally speaking, but come on!” He shrugged, an almost mischievous glint in his eye. “I’d be more impressed with you than I already am if you did something like that.”

Pepper made a series of rapid calculations. If the X never materialized, she really would need to use whatever she could to gain an edge. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for the idea.” She bit her lip. “Listen, would you mind—I wasn’t going to tell anybody at work that I was even inviting him. I—thought it’d be more impressive if Mark finds out at the party, when hopefully I’ve already hooked Davidson. You know? Could you—?”

“Keep it a secret?” Erik finished her dangling question. “Hell yeah, of course! Surprise is one of the best weapons in any fight. I wouldn’t spoil that for you.”

Chapter 14

Griff wasn’t even sure he’d actually seen the girl beckon. But she was still looking at him, and her smile grew as he approached, so he guessed he’d seen it all right.

“Uh, hi.” He felt uncharacteristically flustered as he got closer. The day’s events seemed to have sucked away some of his usual confidence.

“Is your friend okay?” she asked, still smiling.

Griff looked over his shoulder automatically, though Marty was already gone. “Uh, he wasn’t really—but yeah, he’s gonna be all right, I think.”

“Is he coming back?”

“No. He’s going home.”

“What about you?”

Griff considered. “I—guess I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“You wanna keep me company while you figure it out?” Her looks were growing on him. She was so thin that her eyes looked huge, her smile almost too wide for her face, but she had a certain doll-like quality, almost like an anime character, that was cute upon closer inspection.

“Sure.” He returned her smile. “Let me just close out my other check, okay?”

He took the bill and Marty’s twenty to the hostess station and paid. He dropped a dollar and some coins on the table he and Marty had sat at, then returned to the girl’s booth and slid in on the other side from her.

“Hi,” he said again, laughing at the weirdness of the situation. “I’m Griffin, but most people call me Griff.” He reached his hand out over the table, and she shook it with a hand so small he was afraid to grip it.

“My parents named me Frederica.” The girl looked heavenward with an exasperated expression. “Don’t ask me why. I just go by Freddy.”

“Nice to meet you, Freddy, in a Denny’s in Billings in the middle of the night.” She laughed. “What are you up to?”

Freddy shrugged, her shoulders looking bony even in her bulky sweater. “Looking for the meaning of life? But I think I took a wrong turn somewhere.” It was Griff’s turn to laugh.

“That pretty much sums up my life,” he said. “So many wrong turns. And we both got here somehow. What are the chances?”

Freddy sipped the last of her soda, and the straw made a sucking sound around the ice cubes in the bottom of her glass. “Well, we didn’t find it here, so should we keep going?”

“Which way you headed?”

She shrugged like it didn’t much matter.

“I’m supposed to be in Minneapolis tomorrow, and I’m completely stranded, so I’d take any amount of progress you could give me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I wasn’t thinking of going that far, but I can drive in that direction for a while.”

“That would be, like, so amazing.”

She stood and scooped up her bill with a flourish. “Let’s go then!”

Griff followed her through the restaurant, hardly believing his luck as they left the Denny’s together.

She led him to a blue Mustang that looked like it was from the 80s, the least sporty era for the model. He marveled that this was the third car he’d entered today, counting his own.

She turned on the ignition and a vaguely familiar female voice blared out of the speakers. “Fuck you,” the singer drawled, “and your untouchable face, and fuck you …”

Freddy turned it down with a giggle. “Sorry, I tend to blast the radio when I drive alone.”

“No, it’s okay, I like it!”

Freddy bit her lip and captured his gaze with her wide eyes. “I like you.”

Griff responded almost automatically, though he felt confused and a bit overwhelmed by the day. “I like you too, Freddy.”

She smiled and put her hand on his thigh. “Maybe we can make a pit stop soon.”

He felt warmth spreading from where she was touching him. “That sounds good to me.”

“So what are you doing really, in the middle of nowhere?” she asked as they got on the highway.

He told her a more or less truthful account of his decade in Seattle, maybe making the move away from the music scene sound a bit more like his idea versus something he was forced to do. He glossed over his Minneapolis plans, saying he had a job waiting for him, as he’d told Marty.

“That’s so cool,” Freddy said dreamily. “You’ve really followed your dreams. I’ve been stuck in shithole Montana my whole life.”

And how long has that been? Griff wondered to himself, but he didn’t ask how old she was. That might bring up how old he was, and he didn’t like thinking about that. Especially since he suspected she might be ten years younger than him, or even more.

“What do you mean, stuck?” he asked. “You’re moving now, aren’t you?”

“Good point!” Her wide smile returned. “Look in the glove box and see if I put my flask there.” He found it and handed it over; she sipped a little before passing it back to him.

Griff took a generous swig and felt it almost immediately, probably due to a combination of exhaustion and a mostly empty stomach. They listened to the CD in silence for a while—Ani DiFranco, he finally recalled—while he stole occasional glances at Freddy, wondering if he should make a move.

“What do you think of the Y2K bug?” Freddy asked out of the blue. Griff felt startled for a moment—his mind had started to wander to his Minneapolis plans and it was almost like she’d read it. Then he relaxed. Y2K was on everyone’s minds, not just his.

“I don’t know—sounds like it could be pretty serious if, like, governments and companies don’t have their shit together, in their technology.”

Freddy scoffed. “I think it’s just hysteria. What people really need to watch out for is 2012. Did you know the Mayan calendar is gonna end on December twenty-first of that year? Twelve-twenty-one-twelve. End of the world. One-two-two-one-one-two.” She laughed. “That sounds almost like computer language, doesn’t it?” She said the numbers again in a robotic monotone and they both laughed. “But I don’t really worry about that—I don’t think I’ll live to see 2012 anyway.”

“Why not?” Griff’s concerned tone was partly real.

Freddy shrugged. “That’s so far away! I guess, you know, I’d rather live fast, die young—”

“—Leave a beautiful corpse,” Griff finished. “Well, you would leave a beautiful corpse, but I hope you don’t.”

She laughed. “That’s the most morbid compliment anyone’s ever paid me! I fucking love it.” She swung the car toward the right lane, causing a chorus of honks, and Griff grabbed the dashboard.

“Whoa! Careful there.”

“I just saw the exit coming up.” Freddy’s tone sharpened. “Anyway, don’t tell me what to do!” Griff couldn’t tell if she was joking or genuinely irritated, but he apologized anyway.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said airily, as if she hadn’t just snapped at him. Griff stared out the window, more puzzled by the minute as to whether he had a chance with this girl.

She navigated to a truck stop with a dark, deserted rest area—a gazebo, picnic tables, and a few pine trees a little way from the bright lights of the gas station and fast-food restaurants. The only other vehicles were parked closer to where the open businesses were, not in this unlit corner.

Freddy turned the engine and headlights off; the music cut off as well. They looked at each other in the sudden silence. “Could you do me a favor?” Now her tone was cute and pleading.

Griff smiled to hide his confusion. “Yeah, sure.”

“Could you go buy me a Diet Coke? I’m dying of thirst.”

Griff started to ask why she’d parked this far away from the store if she wanted a drink, but he thought better of it. Whatever was going on in her head, she was his ride until he figured out another one, and he didn’t want to fuck it up in this Montana rest stop in the middle of the night.

He hurried from the car to the convenience store, hands stuffed in his pockets, and used a couple bucks of the money he had left from Marty to get two cans of pop.

Music was playing again, Blink-182 this time, when he got back in the passenger seat of the little blue Mustang. “It started to get cold so I put the heater on.” Freddy held out her flask. “You want the rest of this?”

“Sure, thanks.” There were a few good swigs left and he drank quickly, the liquor warming his insides as Freddy sipped her soda.

“We should get in back,” she said decisively.

Griff wasn’t expecting that; she seemed to have cooled to him. “Really?”

“Yeah! We can’t get comfortable up here.” She turned and wiggled between the front seats, almost knocking over her soda in the cup holder, and tumbled into the back. “Come on,” she urged, and pulled her giant sweater off, revealing in the dim illumination from the dashboard and the distant truck stop lights a little black tank top and no bra, not that she needed one for her small breasts.

Griff realized all over again how thin she was. Her bony hips, poking out of her too-big cargo pants, were enticing, as was the suddenly languorous look on her face as she leaned back against the door. He didn’t think he could squeeze past the seats as easily as she had, so he got out of the car and into the back through the door.

He took off his coat, hat and scarf and threw them into the front seat. It was time to see whether this was all a weird mind game or if she actually wanted him.

He touched her knee and then her thigh, both nearly lost in her pants leg. Sensing no discomfort, he used his right leg to support most of his weight while he slowly lowered himself on top of her. The liquor had gone to his head and he felt swept up in the strange moment.

Freddy moaned a little as their bodies came into contact. He finally kissed the lips he’d been staring at for so long, and she responded hungrily. He cupped her right breast lightly in his left hand; like the rest of her, it seemed so delicate he was wary of being too rough. He felt Freddy’s thin arms encircle him and he pressed his groin into hers, feeling a surge of blood as his erection grew.

“What do you want?” Freddy whispered in his ear.

“I want you,” he breathed, thrusting against her again. “What do you want?”

“I want to get out of this place,” she said softly. “I want to leave forever.”

“You will.” He pushed her shirt up, exposing her breasts, worked open her cargo pants, and pulled them and her underwear partway down her legs. “You’re already on your way.” She didn’t resist; her arms lay relaxed at her sides and her eyes were closed.

He slid his hand between her thighs and tried to push them apart, but she didn’t seem to want to spread her legs. He nudged them a little more and they moved, but heavily, as if unwilling. Puzzled, he kissed her lips again. “Are you ready?” She didn’t respond.

He drew back. “Freddy?”

A little sigh escaped her lips. No … it was more like a snore.

He shook her a little. “Freddy?” Her head lolled to the side.

Griff groaned. He was still rock hard; the prospect of fucking had seemed like such a gratifying reward after a hellish day. Looking at her exposed breasts, flat belly, and skinny thighs didn’t help.

She looked relaxed; she’d wanted to fuck, he knew that, before she fell asleep or passed out or whatever. His hand unfastened his own pants almost unconsciously. He lowered them a few inches and started to push Freddy’s thighs apart a little farther. He’d just have a quick bit of fun, and she probably wouldn’t even notice when she woke up, or she’d think they’d already started when she fell asleep, or—

He caught a glance of his own faint reflection in the window behind Freddy, and the calming monologue in his head came to a crashing halt. Like a bucket of cold water, a sudden realization of what he was trying to talk himself into washed away every ounce of intoxication. He hurriedly pulled up and fastened his pants and got Freddy dressed. He patted her face. “Wake up.” He wondered if she had narcolepsy; he seemed to remember that could get triggered by excitement or something. “Freddy, wake up!” He leaned into the front seat; maybe pressing his cold unopened soda can against her cheek would …

His eyes fell on something on the floor by the driver’s seat. A brown plastic pill bottle, open, the lid a few inches away on the floor.

Griff lunged his body between the seats and managed to hook the bottle with the tips of his fingers. He could barely make out the label and didn’t recognize the name of the pharmaceutical. He looked back at Freddy. He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it because of the dim lighting, but her face looked paler, almost bluish.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He looked wildly around as if for a magic door that would take him out of this situation entirely. Maybe he could run and she’d sleep it off. Maybe he should tell someone—but who? And how long would it take them to get Freddy some help? And would he be detained on suspicion of—something? He remembered the contents of the plastic bag in his backpack. He thought of his behavior of a few moments ago and cold guilt washed over him again.

He ran to the convenience store, spotted a phone booth outside, and flipped through the yellow pages to the hospital listings with shaking hands. A name caught his eye: St. Vincent’s. He remembered seeing signs for it as they’d headed away from the Denny’s—it had stuck out because it reminded him of the name of a thrift store he’d frequented as a teenager in Minneapolis, when used clothes from the sixties and seventies seemed the height of rebellion against the current culture. The hospital couldn’t be far from where they’d been, and there would be signs pointing him to it.

Then back to the car, not even feeling the cold anymore. Freddy was still unconscious. Still breathing though. Griff slammed her car into gear and got on the westbound highway.

Chapter 15

Becket watched Pepper drag the soft white spring roll through glistening mahogany sauce, redolent of hoisin, and chew off a piece, eyes closing for a moment as she relished it. Becket took the other roll. A crisp stem of cilantro offered a bright contrast to the sweet and spicy sauce and the mild cold rice noodles encased in the wrapper.

They were at Pepper’s favorite Vietnamese restaurant, where she inevitably ordered the same thing—tofu spring rolls and a dish called imperial mock duck, heavy on the lemongrass. She wasn’t even vegetarian, but someone had talked her into trying that the first time she’d come, and she’d been hooked ever since.

After dinner they’d go to a nearby bar for beer and a game of pool; it had become a familiar date ritual that they both loved. Not only was Pepper genuinely good at it, but she looked amazing from all angles when she was leaning over the pool table in hip-hugging jeans, a low-cut shirt, and high-heel boots. Becket’s heart sped up at the mental picture, and skipped a beat as he reached into his pocket to touch something there.

“So, three more days, huh?” Becket would be relieved when this party was over; it seemed to have taken on an outsized importance for Pepper that he still couldn’t quite understand.

She looked heavenward while she finished chewing and swallowing her bite. “Yes. Fuck. I have so much more to do, but I’ll be glad when it’s done.” He chuckled that she’d voiced his own thoughts.

“Well, I can’t wait. I know it’s gonna be great, like everything you do.” He took another huge bite of the spring roll; he had to admit they’d really grown on him. When he could talk clearly again, he asked, “Do you have any requests about how I dress? I want to make a good impression for you too, so I’ll wear whatever you tell me to. Unless it’s assless chaps—I gotta draw the line there.”

Pepper didn’t laugh. She placed the remaining half of her roll carefully on a little plate in front of her. “So, okay …” She hesitated. “I feel like this is going to sound kind of weird, but …” She fidgeted with her napkin and dropped it back onto her lap. “I’m gonna need to … pretend I’m single that night.” She kept her eyes downcast.

Becket felt a little shocked, a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. “Really? I thought your coworkers knew …?”

“They do, they do. It’s just …” She sighed. “Sometimes in my industry, you have to use whatever weapons you have. There’s a guy coming who—if I get his business, I’m basically set at work. I might have to kind of … flatter him a little. It’ll be easier if he doesn’t think I’m with anyone at the party.”

“Oh.” Becket’s hand clenched around the object in his pocket, but he tried to sound impassive. “Um, I guess, so do you want me to, like, stay away?”

“No!” Pepper said sharply. “You’re invited—I’m not uninviting you. I just mean you need to be a little—subtle, okay?”

“Okay,” Becket said after a pause. “But you won’t mind if I decide not to come?”

“Jesus Christ, Beck. Why are you being so fucking melodramatic about it? It’s just business, okay?”

“I’m not questioning that, Pepper.” He tried to choose his words carefully, sensing a growing peril. “I trust you to know what you need to do. I just wonder if it’ll be easier for you if I’m not there. I don’t mind not coming if you prefer that.”

“Well, you don’t have to ask my fucking permission either way.” Her voice was growing louder. “You’re invited, that’s all. You can come or not come—it’s up to you.” She made an exasperated sound. “I don’t know why you act all—like, just do what you want, okay? We’re not joined at the hip.”

Becket didn’t like the way this was going. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just hope—we can be straight with each other. Are you planning on, like, doing something with this guy? For business?”

“What if I was?” Her eyes were cold and accusatory. “Who ever said we were exclusive? You never did, and I sure didn’t.”

Becket’s stomach was hollow. “So, what? You’re seeing someone else? You want to date other people?”

“I didn’t say any of that.” He’d never seen her so angry, but there was something else under it. Fear, maybe. “But I don’t give a shit if you want to see other people. I literally don’t care. Do what you want—you’re your own person. And I thought I was too. I don’t think I’m, like, under any obligation, am I?”

Becket swallowed. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, feeling foolish about what was in there. “No, Pepper, you don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry if I made it sound like that.”

But she was on a tear now. “You can’t fucking control me with your passive aggressive shit, okay? Just come or don’t come.” She threw her napkin over the rest of her spring roll and stood up. “I’m not hungry. Okay if I leave? Am I free to go?”

He looked at her helplessly. He saw no way to salvage the night. “Yeah. Go ahead. I think you should cool off before we talk any more.”

She swore under her breath and yanked her wallet out, throwing a twenty on the table. “See you around.” She turned and stalked out of the restaurant. Becket stayed, outwardly calm and inwardly panicking. He took the little box out of his pocket and clicked it open, turning it so the stone caught the light. When the server brought their main dishes, he shut it hastily and asked for the check.

Chapter 16

The hospital was remarkably easy to find, and it was smaller than he was used to from a lifetime of living in bigger cities, so the main entrance to the emergency room wasn’t hard to locate. Griff pulled up, relieved no one was coming in or out at the moment. He got out, grabbed his backpack, and used his scarf to try and wipe the steering wheel, gear shaft, door handles … After frantically cleaning a few more surfaces he realized it’d be impossible to ensure his prints weren’t anywhere on the car, so he gave up.

Taking one last look in the back seat—Freddy was even paler now—he honked long and hard, several times. Then he slammed the driver side door and hurried away.

Part of him wanted to find somewhere to hide and watch, to make sure someone came out to help Freddy. But he kept walking, briskly and purposefully, though he had no clue where he would go next.

He glimpsed a neon sign for a gas station a couple blocks away and made a beeline for it.

Once inside, he bought a road atlas with an uncomfortable amount of his remaining cash and squeezed into a corner out of the way of the flow of people paying for gas. He unfolded the map and scrutinized the eastbound routes out of Billings. I-94 was the obvious best option. I-90 was also a decent route. The problem was his lack of wheels.

Griff’s mind turned in circles. The thought of trying to hitch a ride on a major interstate, well, it was impossible. He’d never seen any hitchhikers on a highway like that.

His finger traced another, smaller line. Old US-87. It would take a lot longer. Would anyone be using it? Would anyone stop for him? What would he do if they didn’t?

He was so tired. But if he didn’t get to Minneapolis soon, what would all of this have been for?

He tried to memorize the route to get to the highway before he stuffed the atlas into his backpack. It’d be a few miles, maybe an hour’s walk or so. He shivered at the thought, but he couldn’t think of a better option. He spent a couple more bucks on hand warmers, stuffed some into his shoes and gloves, and set out.

His steps echoed on the mostly empty streets. For over an hour he walked, checking the map occasionally in the light of a streetlamp or the light on his phone, the battery of which was getting low. It was slower going than he’d hoped because of the slick conditions, and sometimes having to walk on the uneven shoulder when there was no sidewalk.

He walked the last mile along a deserted six-lane road until he reached where Highway 87 branched off it. With only his thoughts to accompany him—mostly criticizing him for all of his recent choices, up to and including leaving Freddy in the car at the hospital and walking onto this godforsaken road—it was an endless and miserable walk. The warmers kept his extremities from freezing, but his face was cold and snot ran into his scarf, which once again got damp and then frost-crusted as he breathed through it.

Griff kept his head down and shoulders hunched. Every once in a while he looked around, but there were no cars on the road. He sang tunelessly to try and drown out his impending sense of doom, but he couldn’t help picturing himself lying frozen on the side of the road like roadkill. Wondering when his body would be discovered, and when the details of the last days of his useless life would be pieced together. If anyone would even bother.

He slipped unexpectedly and was on the ground before he quite knew what had happened. His tailbone ached from the impact but he was otherwise unscathed. He hadn’t had time to tense up, or try to catch himself with his hands, and it seemed to have worked in his favor. He laughed while he thought that, lying on the icy ground. For once his uselessness had been useful. He struggled to a sitting position but felt devoid of any inclination to keep going.

It was then, of course, that headlights suddenly pierced the night. A car approached from behind him and continued past him heading east as he scrambled to his feet. He looked after it in disbelieving horror, too stunned to even wave or shout.

Then the red brake lights flared. Several hundred feet ahead of him, the car slowed and pulled onto the shoulder. Whoever was driving it seemed to be waiting.

Griff didn’t make them wait long.

Chapter 17

Delia raced down the stairs from her third-floor apartment. Teddy had just honked for a second time as she was adjusting her makeup, which she hadn’t paid much attention to applying in quite some time.

It was pretty much their ritual that he’d honk when he came to pick her up, which—now that the scales of infatuation had fallen from her eyes—she realized was kind of a shitty way to do things. But she wasn’t about to rock the boat tonight. Not in any obvious way anyway.

She picked her way through the snow and slush to his waiting car and jumped into the passenger seat. “Hi baby,” he grinned. She found it hard to look directly at him, but she forced herself, returning his wide smile with one of her own that she hoped was convincing.

“Hi Teddy.” She tried to exude excitement at seeing him after so long apart. He leaned in and kissed her.

“Baby, you smell so good,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck. She grimaced but put up with it.

He pulled back and put the car in gear. “The Six Twelve, right?”

“Actually, I thought we could try somewhere new tonight.” Delia cupped his cheek in her hand. “Make it extra special since it’s been so long!”

“Oh yeah?” He glanced over at her.

“Yeah! I’ve been meaning to check out Missionary—they’ve been open like, what? A year now? And I’ve never been.” She put her hand on his thigh. “I wouldn’t mind dancing with you, boo.”

Teddy frowned. “You know, I’ve heard that place is not that great. If you want to go dancing, there’s always Expand—should we head there?”

“Let’s pop into Missionary first and see what it’s like, and if it sucks we can leave right away.”

“Yeah, but …” Delia watched his hands tightening and relaxing their grip on the steering wheel over and over. “Well, I did look through the City Pages for places we can go, but I saw that DJ, Ankala or whatever her name is, is playing tonight. So you don’t really want to see her.”

“Oh I don’t know.” Delia tried her best to sound casual. “Even if she’s not a nice person or whatever, I’d still like to check out her skills, you know, just from a scoping out the competition point of view.”

“Please can we go to the Six Twelve, baby?” Teddy’s wheedling tone had an undercurrent of desperation that she might not’ve detected if she hadn’t been listening for it. “I just wanna go somewhere quiet so we can relax and talk—I’ve missed you so much! I’ll take you to Missionary another night, I promise.”

“Well, when you put it that way … okay.” Teddy’s hands and shoulders relaxed as he grinned with relief.

“You’re the best, babe.” They were less than a minute’s drive from the bar, and soon they were ensconced in a booth in the darkest corner, two-for-one drinks in front of them. The Six Twelve had so many specials that it seemed like drinks were always two for one there.

Teddy put his arm around Delia. “You have no idea how lonely I was without you.”

He gave her puppydog eyes that she used to find adorable. “Used to” was a phrase that described a lot of her observations right now. His blue eyes, that floppy blond hair, the slight pout of his lower lip, his just-shy-of-chubby body still plenty muscular under his frat-boy baby fat, used to make her melt … and look forward to the time they could go to one of their apartments at the end of every date. Now she just felt flat and cold.

He didn’t act like he noticed any difference in her demeanor—which made her question how attentive he’d ever actually been to her. When she broke it down, a lot of his romantic gestures had been pretty uncreative. He was already squeezing her thigh under the table, breathing in her ear, clearly expecting the public part of this date to be on the short side.

“Oh, guess what?” She put on a bright tone. “I totally forgot to tell you when we were talking on the phone the other night—I guess my brain was still foggy from the cold medicine. I got a New Year’s Eve gig!”

“Really? That’s awesome, Lady D!” His favorite nickname for her seemed almost unbearably cheesy now, but she tried not to wince visibly.

“Yeah! And you’ll never guess where?” He shrugged. “Great Dane!”

“Wait, what?” He looked shaken. He hadn’t invited her to his office party, of course, and she hadn’t bothered to ask him why—by the time she knew about the event, she knew about his secret life.

“That’s right!” She continued as if he’d acted elated. “Your coworker, Pepper? She called me up just a couple days ago because her other DJ canceled on her.”

“Babe, wow, that’s so—cool!” Teddy had recovered enough to act like he was happy about the news. “Wow, it was just gonna be a lame work thing, but now it’s gonna be the baddest party ever!” He kissed her. “I can’t wait to show off my sexy cool DJ girlfriend. I’ll be your groupie the whole night.” His kiss deepened and she went along with it. “You wanna go to your place? I don’t think I can wait much longer …”

“Mmm …” Delia ran her hand up his thigh and squeezed his groin, feeling an instant surge in response.

Teddy’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Let’s go.”

Delia kissed him some more, still squeezing and rubbing through the fabric of his jeans. His hand went to her side and started to slip under her top. He was being much bolder about touching her in public than usual. Delia let him explore a little while longer, then pulled her hand away from his crotch with a downcast expression. “Sorry, boo—I can’t tonight. I got my period a couple days ago.”

Now his natural pout had turned into a full-blown sulky face. Her period was a reliable dealbreaker for him. “Damn, really?” He withdrew his hand from her shirt and sat up straighter, moving slightly away from her.

“I know, right? Just the worst timing. But I’m still glad I got to see you! And hey, it’ll be gone by New Year’s Eve.”

Teddy sighed. Delia tried to make her smile tender instead of gleeful. It must be so hard to be a white boy and not get your way.

Chapter 18

Griff drifted in and out of sleep, waking only long enough to shift position from time to time, vaguely aware of time passing but unable to drag himself into consciousness for long.

He woke again to cold air as the car door opened and shut and his traveling companion walked away. They were at a brightly lit gas station. He dropped off again, waking a few minutes later when the driver door opened again. A man in his mid-forties—that was Griff’s best guess anyway—got in. Deke, he reminded himself groggily. The man pulled off his stocking cap, revealing graying brown hair pulled into a greasy ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Deke smiled at him. “Doing okay?” he asked. Griff nodded. He felt like he’d been drugged, except he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink.

“Sorry, can’t seem to keep my eyes open.” He felt guilty for not at least keeping this friendly stranger company, and also worried that he wasn’t more on guard given how haywire his two other experiences with strangers that night had gone.

“If your body needs sleep, nothing much you can do but listen to it.” Deke thrust a plastic bag at Griff. “Got you a mystery meat sub, in case you’re hungry.”

Griff’s stomach overruled his drowsy state and he popped the seat release to sit up straighter. He took the bag and peered inside. A plastic-wrapped cold turkey and cheese sandwich and chips had never looked so good. “Thanks.” Filled with grateful wonder, he wolfed the food down as Deke got back on the road.

When he’d first gotten into the car, he’d been prepared for anything. But Deke’s quiet calm and the unfamiliar music—somewhere between country and alternative—playing on his car stereo had slowly relaxed Griff, until he’d fallen into a lethargy unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Occasionally during his waking moments he wondered why he felt so trusting. But then sleep would overtake him again.

He polished off the sandwich and chips, then chugged a Pepsi Deke had gotten for him. He belched and apologized. “That was the best meal I’ve ever had, no joke.”

Deke laughed. “I’m real sorry to hear that.” Griff laughed too.

“If you knew the day I had …” he said. “Hell, the life I’ve had.”

“We got nothing but time.” Deke said it like an invitation to tell all.

Griff did. Even as he talked, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t fabricate or hold anything back like he usually would. Why he didn’t gloss over his desperate and ultimately failed attempts to bullshit his way through life. Why he didn’t pretend not to have thought about stealing Marty’s car and abandoning him, or been tempted to have sex with Freddy while she was unconscious. Deke listened with little comment, but somehow Griff felt compelled to continue, even telling him the rough outlines of the scheme he planned to take part in once he got to Minneapolis.

At last he was done. His ugly disaster of a life laid bare and unvarnished before another person. He felt oddly relieved not to be the only one who knew it all anymore.

Deke drove on, looking straight ahead. “Sounds familiar.”

“What?” Griff wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but it wasn’t that.

“Did you think you were special, son?” Deke said. “Son” was even funnier than “kid” to Griff, especially since Deke was maybe ten, fifteen years older than him at most. “Lots of people have fucked up their life.”

“I never said I was special, but—”

“You think you’re worse than anyone who’s ever lived?”

“No, but I’m pretty much a piece of shit.”

“Well, I’m not arguing with you there.” Deke snorted laughter. “But lots of people are pieces of shit. It’s a much easier path to take than not being one. Hell, sometimes it’s pretty much predetermined by how we were raised, what we saw growing up.”

The car droned on and the miles between them and Minneapolis peeled away. Gradually Griff drifted off again.

He woke to a gray dawn with no idea how long he’d been asleep this time. They were off the highway, in a town or city. He struggled to full consciousness. “Where are we?” Even his mouth muscles felt lethargic.

“Rapid City, South Dakota,” Deke said. “Home for me. End of the line.” Griff realized he’d spent hours with Deke, felt strangely comfortable with him, and yet didn’t know anything about the man. They’d barely talked besides his weird confession however many hours ago. The car pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript brown building.

“What’s this?”

Deke scratched at his scruffy goatee. “Greyhound station.” He pulled an ancient-looking wallet from his equally aged jeans, opened it, and slowly peeled off five twenties. “I don’t know when the next bus for Minneapolis leaves, but it’s probably a twelve-hour ride. That gonna get you there soon enough for what you need to do?”

Griff’s mouth had dropped open. “Uh, yeah, that’s, that’d be perfect, man. But I … how am I gonna pay you back?”

“Well, let’s see.” Deke folded the bills in half and tapped the steering wheel with them. “How about this? If you could think about what you’ve done lately … I don’t know. Seems like when the chips are down, sometimes you take the path of not being a piece of shit.” He reached out and patted Griff’s chest. “Maybe that’s in you, son. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Griff wasn’t sure what he was really agreeing to; he was trying not to stare too obviously at the stack of money in Deke’s hand.

“Okay,” Deke repeated with a little grin. He handed the money over. “Happy holidays.”

Chapter 19

Pepper followed Kevvy down an alley past a strip club and a pawn shop, picking her way around piles of dirty snow. He led the way to a small store with bars on the windows and a neon sign above the door: “C.C. Party Fashion.”

“You sure about this?” Pepper laughed nervously.

“Give it a chance.” Kevvy had a mischievous glint in his eye as he opened the door for her.

Inside, techno music pounded on a tinny sound system and the lighting managed to be both harsh and inadequate. The racks closest to the door seemed to be mainly see-through teddies in gaudy colors, with gauze ruffles or feathers lining the bodices. Pepper turned one piece around and saw it had a g-string in back. She put it back hastily.

“Hi, can I help you?” A solidly built woman in a baggy T-shirt approached from the back.

“Uh, yeah, I’m looking for an outfit for a party?” Pepper said hesitantly.

“Fun! Okay, let’s see.” The woman picked up something similar to what Pepper had already examined. “This is fun. What do you think?”

Kevvy broke. “She’s throwing the party, not working it.” He brushed past the woman and headed toward the back. Pepper hurried after him, trying not to burst into nervous laughter.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the woman called after them, already losing interest.

“Kevvy, this stuff seems a bit … extreme,” Pepper whispered. “It’s a work party, remember. I have to face those guys on Monday. I can only push it so far.”

“Don’t worry—I work in the same business as you, remember? I know exactly how far to push it.” Kevvy skimmed through racks of tiny, flimsy garments with brisk confidence. “We’re going to get you the exact …” He picked out a silver sequined romper and squinted at it before placing it back on the rack. “The perfect outfit that checks all the boxes. Make McDouchy Dot Com stand at attention and give you all his money. Shock your coworkers but not so much they lose respect for you. And make Becket realize he should treat you a lot better if he doesn’t want to lose all of this.” He indicated her entire body with a swirl of his finger, then turned back to the racks.

Pepper felt a hollow sensation in her stomach. “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to him today?” Kevvy asked without missing a beat in his hunt through the clothing displays.

She shook her head miserably. “I think I might’ve overreacted a little. Or a lot. And I basically told him we’re not dating, so I don’t know why he’d want to call me.”

“Now hang on.” Kevvy whipped a couple of items off the rack he was looking at and kept moving. Pepper followed. “You said you weren’t exclusive. That’s way different from not dating.”

“Is it?”

Kevvy gave her a look. “I’m sorry, but straight people, sometimes. Why do you make yourselves so miserable? It’s, like, an unforced error. Yes, girl. You can be with someone and not be with only them. Those are my favorite relationships—all the affection with none of the boredom!”

“Well.” Pepper let that hang without argument. “I don’t know. I think I might’ve been the asshole last night, but I don’t even know. He’s so … agreeable, I don’t even know if we were actually fighting.”

“Well, I think he should still be the one to apologize.” Kevvy frowned. “You’re under a lot of pressure right now! If he doesn’t recognize that, that’s his problem. What’s he do, handyman or whatever?”

“He manages buildings,” Pepper said. “But yeah, it doesn’t seem like it’s very challenging … at least he doesn’t ever seem stressed out or tired from it.”

Kevvy scoffed dismissively. “See, if he’s gonna be with a badass girl climbing the ladder and breaking glass ceilings, he’s gonna have to learn to be more supportive when you’re stressed. And—oh. My. God.” He held up a hanger—she saw silver fabric with black undertones but couldn’t really tell what it was, Kevvy was waving it around so excitedly. “I found it! Let’s get it in a couple sizes—you should stay away from the changing room here. Now we just need to hit up the craft store and I’ll make it sing. I’m gonna make you the most sexy, powerful Playboy goddess the world has ever seen. You’ll be able to take or leave Becket, but he’s gonna realize what he’s got and do whatever he can to win you back.”

Pepper shrugged, feeling skeptical, but followed Kevvy to the cash register.

Chapter 20

“Dude!” Rocky’s voice blared through Griff’s cellphone receiver. He sounded high already at nine in the morning. “I was wondering who kept trying to call me. Where the fuck have you been? I thought you were dead or some shit.”

Griff had arrived at the Minneapolis Greyhound station after one in the morning and spent an uncomfortable night lying across a couple hard plastic chairs. Luckily the employees didn’t seem at all interested in him. He woke every hour or two to try Rocky’s phone, finally reaching him about eight hours later.

“No, man, but I’ve been through some shit.” Griff yawned. “Could you come get me? My car broke down and I had to take a bus to get here.”

“Oh shit man, that sucks. Um, yeah, I can come get you. Where’s it at?”

Half an hour later, Griff was in Rocky’s passenger seat as he headed through downtown toward his Northeast Minneapolis home. Griff was happier than he could’ve predicted to see the familiar streets and buildings of the city; he hadn’t visited in years and didn’t think he missed his old hometown at all. He told a lighthearted version of his misadventures that made Rocky laugh so hard he had a coughing fit and nearly sent the car onto the sidewalk.

On the way they talked about the impending deal. Rocky assured him it was a simple operation, though Griff couldn’t comprehend it. Something about a computer bug that would empty long-inactive bank accounts once the clock struck midnight; they just needed to deliver the money by December thirty-first to buy their way into it, and the hackers would do the rest.

Rocky patiently walked him through it again. The programmers responsible for the scheme—contractors hired by a major bank to get their systems ready for Y2K—had made sure certain accounts that would never be missed had been left out of Y2K compliance, and had written code into the system that would take the amounts from the failed accounts and drop them into a new account. The seed money their investors brought would be used to help them disappear after the heist had happened but before they could access the stolen funds. It would also give them the resources they needed to launder the funds, deposit them in an offshore account, and then redistribute among their investors.

“Can you trust these guys?” Now that it was so close, Griff felt doubt creep in. “What if they use our money to disappear from us, too?”

“Oh yeah, these guys are okay.” Rocky waved his hand. “I’ve known ’em for years. They don’t want to fuck over regular people like us; they wanna fuck the banks that fuck us over. Get it?”

Griff didn’t, but at least Rocky did. He’d done pretty well in high school, especially at math and economics, so even though his brain had probably suffered from his heavy drug use since then, he seemed to still have enough of a grasp for Griff to feel more confident.

Rocky lived in the upper level of a duplex with peeling paint and an uneven lawn. Inside it was cluttered and dingy and reeked of pot, but there was a second bedroom mostly filled with boxes he’d never unpacked and other detritus he didn’t feel like dealing with. He offered Griff a ratty sleeping bag and use of the room until they finished their deal.

“So you got your five grand, right?” They were ensconced in the living room on cracked brown leather furniture, sharing a spliff. Rocky’s blondish-brown dreadlocks, matted and lumpy, had a halo of loose hairs that glowed in late morning sunlight fighting its way through the grime on his windows.

“Not quite, but I will.” Griff dug through his backpack, pulled out the plastic bag and held it up for Rocky to see. Inside the larger bag were dozens of tiny baggies with several small white tablets in each.

Rocky’s eyes widened. “Is that X, man?”

“Three hundred tabs,” Griff said. He didn’t like to think of the guitars he’d pawned and the money he’d borrowed that he’d never pay back. “You think I can get twenty apiece here?”

“Fuck yeah. Maybe another time it’d be hard to get more than fifteen, but dealers are sold out here.” He stared admiringly at the bag. “I don’t deal it myself, but I hook my customers up with other guys. A lot of people are asking before the big countdown, and I’ve been coming up dry for weeks now. You might even get twenty-five, thirty from some people.”

“Sweet dude, then we’re in business.” Griff felt a wave of relief. “If you help me get the contacts, I’ll move this shit and get the five grand. Can I borrow your car to make deliveries?”

Rocky was reluctant but came around. The minimum buy-in to the deal was ten grand so he was counting on Griff’s half to be able to do it. Soon he was equipped with a list of people Rocky already knew had been looking to score, and Rocky was putting the word out to his network that a new batch had arrived.

Griff went out for coffee to help him clear the fog from the morning spliff. Then he hunkered down on a beanbag chair between boxes in Rocky’s spare room with his phone and a notebook and went to work on the list.

* * *

Hours later, Griff pulled up in front of Rocky’s house, exhausted but cautiously optimistic after his first day of offloading his supply. Most customers wanted to purchase five or ten pills, so it was a lot of running around for what felt like incremental progress, but in the end he’d made almost two grand and sold about a third of the ecstasy with three days to go. Four, if he counted New Year’s Eve, but he hoped to finish off before then. He’d stopped off at Taco Bell after his last stop and wolfed down two burritos as he drove back to his home base.

Rocky’s living room was noisy and crowded when Griff arrived. He smoked a bowl and played a few rounds of Gran Turismo 2 mostly to be polite. He secreted his cash and remaining pills in a corner of the bedroom once he was safely inside with the door shut.

The spare room had an overactive radiator, so he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into the musty-smelling sleeping bag, resting his head on a water-stained pillow with no case. Compared with Deke’s car and the bus station it was luxury accommodations, and the party sounds outside were comfortingly familiar and normal. He was deep asleep before he knew what had hit him.

He woke about ten hours later in a blind panic and scrambled over to the hiding place, expecting the drugs and money to be gone, but it was right where he’d left it. He counted the pills and bills with trembling hands.

He zipped it into his backpack and took the bag into the bathroom with him, locking the door. Trying to avoid looking at the filth in the corners of the tub and sink, he scrubbed away the sweat and dirt of the past two days of desperate hustle.

Rocky had very possibly spent the night in the living room and was again (still?) glued to his PlayStation when Griff entered. Without looking up, he patted a spiral-bound notepad next to him with one hand. “Yo dude. I’ve been busy—got a whole nother list for you!”

“Killer.” Griff tried not to sound tired. He’d never dealt drugs in a serious way and hadn’t realized how stressful yet tedious it was.

“Oh, and I gave your number to this one guy who was really desperate. He’s a fag but he’s cool. He’s gonna pass your number to his friend. He’s been checking with me almost every day for her. So maybe you can jack up the price for them, and like she might want a lot.”

That reminded Griff that he hadn’t charged his phone when he’d gotten home the night before. It was dead, so he plugged it in while he went out in search of coffee and something cheap for breakfast.

He sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag when he got back, unwrapped his sandwich, and munched rather glumly. He didn’t mind fast food, but having it as his constant diet was taking its toll. Once he had a kitchen again … he tried to visualize starting over in a new place once this was over. St. Louis, maybe, or Austin. He imagined having a hut on a beach somewhere where fresh fruit and fish abounded … maybe Hawaii. No, Panama. The money would last forever if he found somewhere cheap and secluded.

The vision evaporated and reality set in. He was still three grand and three days away from his future. He needed to focus.

He powered up his phone and saw he had several missed calls, all from the same number. No voicemail. He washed down the last of his sausage and egg biscuit with a swig of rapidly cooling coffee and called back.

Chapter 21

“Shit! Fucking fuck!” Pepper grabbed her phone. She and her hopefully maybe would-be dealer had been playing phone tag all day. First she’d been in the shower. Then he’d not been picking up for hours. Now she was at Kevvy’s getting his help putting the finishing touches on her New Year’s Eve outfit and she’d missed his last call while she was in the bathroom trying the “smoky cat eyes” makeup Kevvy insisted she needed to master.

She fumbled for the call history and hit the button for redial.

“Hello?” a male voice answered.

“Uh, hi, uh, is this Griff?”

“Maybe, who wants to know?” Despite herself, she laughed a little.

“My name’s Pepper. Um, my friend Kevvy, Kevin, gave me your number, and he um, got it from this guy Rocky?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I uh, wondered if we could meet up? Talk about something?” She covered her eyes with her free hand. Kevvy was smirking and rightly so. She was ridiculously bad at this.

“Uh, maybe. When and where?”

Pepper reeled through her usual haunts in her mind, wanting to avoid those, and chose one she was a little less familiar with. “The Six Twelve, tonight? Do you know where that is?”

“I’m kind of busy the rest of the night. Want to meet at the bar tomorrow? Maybe around, I don’t know, six?”

“Yeah, yes, definitely.” Pepper hardly dared to hope that this was finally working out.

“How will I know you?” the voice asked.

“Oh right,” she said. “I, uh, I have curly hair, with some purple streaks in it, and I’ll be wearing, like, a puffy silver coat.” It felt like she was setting up a blind date for herself. “What about you?”

“Brown leather coat, brown hair,” he said. “Wow. I’m pretty nondescript, now that I think about it.”

She laughed again. Something about his voice was very appealing … friendlier and more human than she expected from a dealer. Not that she had any real experience to go on. When she’d gotten drugs, which wasn’t very often, she’d usually gotten them off a friend, mainly Kevvy. He would’ve done this deal for her, too, but she was down to the wire. She didn’t want any more steps between her and the stupid ecstasy than necessary.

“Okay, I’ll just start with the most nondescript guy at the bar and go from there.” She felt gratified when he laughed too.

“What’s your name again?”

“Pepper.”

“Pepper,” he said as if committing it to memory. “Okay, Pepper with the purple hair and silver coat, I’ll see you at six tomorrow.”

Chapter 22

He was anything but nondescript.

Pepper didn’t see anyone of his description when she entered the Six Twelve. She parked herself at the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke, then texted Griff’s number that she’d arrived.

No reply, so she kept watching the door. Less than five minutes after she’d gotten her drink, a brown leather coat entered the bar. She looked at the hair, partly hidden under a navy blue stocking cap but clearly brown. Finally she glanced at the face, and her heart did a funny little skip.

He was a little pale, a bit gaunt, with tired eyes and a tense set to his mouth. His shaggy hair hadn’t seen a barber in a while. None of that took away from his looks.

She collected herself and raised her hand a little as he scanned the bar. Her movement caught his eye and he smiled and nodded a little, heading toward her.

“Pepper?” His voice was instantly recognizable from their phone conversation—a little throaty but not too deep.

“That’s me.” Her face felt a little hot.

“Griffin—Griff.” He held out his hand and she shook it, wondering if that was normal dealer-buyer protocol. “So you wanted to talk about something?”

“Yeah, um.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “My friend said you could—”

“Pepperoni!” A voice behind her made her jump. She turned again and was immediately annoyed.

“Oh, hey, Ted.”

“How’s it hanging?” he asked, a little too loudly, the way he talked when he was starting to get drunk. She shouldn’t know that, since she didn’t hang out with him much outside of work, but Teddy was one of the worst about dipping into the office fridges stocked with beer at all times of the day.

“Great, good.” Griff was looking to the bartender, so she didn’t think she needed to introduce them. What would she say anyway?

“Awesome.” There was an awkward silence and she stared at Ted’s slightly red, verging-on-puffy face, wondering what was next. “Hey, I heard you got a DJ for the Great Dane party.”

“Yeah.” Pepper was still confused.

“Yeah. Hey, listen.” He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice slightly, though it was still well above a whisper. “I know Delia.” His breath smelled like cheap beer.

“Oh, really?” Pepper said politely. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” he repeated. “So, like, I’ve kind of, you know, dated her.”

“Okay?” Was that was this was, just bragging about a conquest?

“Just kind of. But if you talk to her, or whatever, could you do me a huge favor and not say anything about Vicki?”

“Oh.” Pepper finally got it. Vicki was Ted’s college girlfriend, daughter of a high-ranking executive at General Mills. She now had her own chic little condo near Lake Calhoun, but Ted liked going to her parents’ mansion on Lake of the Isles. He also liked to joke about someday “inheriting” it. “Is Vicki coming to our party?”

He shook his head, looking stupidly relieved and ever so punchable. “One of her friends is throwing a party at their parents’ house while they’re out of the country. I’m gonna spend a couple hours at the Great Dane one and then head over to meet her there.” He leaned a little closer; now she could feel his breath as well as smell it. “So you won’t say anything to Delia about it, right? Or to Vicki, next time you see her?”

Pepper felt slightly dirty, but what else was new? “It’s none of my business. I won’t say anything.”

“Sweet.” He gave her a serious look and held out his fist. “Pepper, I knew you were down. You’re the downest chick I’ve ever worked with.”

Pepper bumped her fist lightly on his. “No big deal.” To her relief he wandered off. She turned her attention back to Griff, who’d had the decency to not be obvious about listening in on her conversation. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries. So is that party why you wanted to see me?” He shrugged. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but he was pretty loud. Plus, when I heard the name ‘Delia’ … I knew a Delia once, a long time ago.” He smiled. “She was a nerdy girl in my high school, so probably not this DJ. Anyway …” he trailed off.

“Anyway,” she picked up where he left off, “yeah, this is … related to that party.” She cleared her throat. “Is it weird to talk about it in here? Sorry, I’ve never really done anything like this.”

“That’s okay.” He laughed a little. She very much liked his laugh. “To be honest, I don’t do this much either. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Exactly.” Pepper was glad she didn’t have to act experienced.

“But yeah, I think it’d be better to talk in my car, or yours, if that’s okay?”

She only hesitated for a moment. Maybe it was foolish to get into a car with a stranger, but she didn’t sense any danger from him. Also it was probably almost as foolish to try and do a drug deal in a public place. “Yeah, okay. I had to park a couple blocks away. Where’s yours?”

“Right across the street.”

She followed him to a dingy two-tone tan and brown car that looked like it was from the eighties. The fenders were speckled with rust.

Griff popped the locks, then hurriedly swept some fast food wrappers and other odds and ends off the seat so she could sit in the passenger seat. He looked embarrassed.

“When I say ‘my’ car, it’s actually … well, it’s a long story, but I’m just borrowing this one from my buddy.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been in worse.”

“Thanks. Sorry. I’m kind of scrambling here. I just got into town, and I’m trying to make money fast, so I—” He stopped. “You don’t need to know my life story. I’m an idiot.”

Pepper felt a rush of sympathy. “My life’s kind of a mess now too.” She said it mainly to make him feel less flustered. Although when she thought about it, there was more truth to that than she’d realized. “That drunk guy back there? Yeah, I work with him. There are a lot more like him where I work. This poor Delia chick—I wish I could warn her. And his other girlfriend. But if I got in the middle every time one of my coworkers was acting like a prick, I’d never do anything else.” She sighed. “It doesn’t feel great, though.”

“Doing stuff you don’t feel great about—seems like that’s the definition of life.”

“Yeah.” She hazarded a brief glance over at him. It was unnerving to be sitting in a car with this gorgeous stranger. Too intimate. She felt butterflies in her stomach. It was much better not to look at him, because otherwise she’d want to stare.

“So anyway, how much do you want?” Griff was apparently done with the preamble, maybe wanting to minimize her time in the car … which did smell of spoiled milk, faint but unpleasant.

“I don’t know, maybe thirty?” She’d set out to get a few, but during the past few days while she’d been waiting to score, she’d started to think that it might also be a good way to impress her colleagues as well as Doug. “How much would that be?”

“Well …” he hesitated and then laughed sheepishly. “I was gonna jack up the price to thirty since Rocky said you were desperate to get some, but I can’t do that. You’re going through enough shit. I’ll sell them for twenty each. That’s my normal price.”

Pepper did some quick math in her head. “So six hundred?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

She thought about it. She knew she should take the deal, but there was something about his tired eyes and tense mouth that struck her. “What about you? I feel like you might be going through some shit yourself.”

He let out a half-laugh that was more like a sigh and looked out the windshield. His hands rested absently on the steering wheel. “I guess you could say that. But … I don’t know, maybe I deserve it. Anyway, I’m getting through it.”

Pepper felt an urge to stroke his cheek, try to soothe away some of whatever was going on with him. She was rather shocked by her attraction to him; despite everything she’d said during her fight with Becket, she hadn’t even looked at another guy since they’d gotten together. But she couldn’t resist her urge to try and help him somehow.

“Let’s split the difference, huh? Seven-fifty for thirty pills.”

“Really?” That got him to look at her, genuine surprise on his face.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m gonna expense some of it anyway—I’ll call it catering for the party.” They both laughed.

“That’s so nice of you.” His smile sent pleasant shivers through her. “Thanks. I can definitely use the money.”

“Well, it was nice of you to not jack up the price.” Definitely not the most hard-edged business deal she’d ever done. But she’d never felt so protective of a stranger before.

“So how do you want to—do you have the money with you?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to go, or how much cash I needed. Sorry.” She thought about it. “Do you think—could you bring it to me the night of the party? So the day after tomorrow?”

He frowned slightly, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Where is it?”

She gave him the address and his eyes widened a little. She wasn’t sure why—maybe he was annoyed at the thought of having to go downtown on New Year’s Eve.

“That’d be really convenient because I’ll be running around all day tomorrow,” she hastened to add, “but if you need me to get it tonight, I can try to—”

“No.” He looked as if he were doing some rapid calculations of his own. “I think that’ll be okay, actually. You’re sure you want thirty, right? They’re selling fast, but I can hold some back for you if you’re sure.”

“Yes! I definitely do. Listen, if you’re thinking about selling them before then, give me a call first, okay? I’ll find the time to meet you earlier if you need me to.”

“No, it’s okay.” That smile again. “I’ll definitely hold them for you and I’ll come drop them off at your party.”

“Oh my god, thank you—you have no idea how much this is helping me.” It felt like the final piece falling into place; victory was within her grasp. She spoke impulsively. “Hey … do you have plans that night? You could stay and hang out, if you wanted.” Even as she was saying it, she had no idea why she was inviting a drug dealer she’d just met to her work party.

“I’ll have to see.” She felt suddenly embarrassed, like he thought she was coming on to him. She was sure that happened a lot. “Everything’s kind of up in the air right now. But I’d really like to.”

“It’s fine, just a thought. Either way.” She opened the door. “Okay, so I’ll see you Friday, right? Any time before, like, nine or ten is fine, so just give me a call.”

“Okay, see you then.” He leaned over to peer up at her as she stepped out. God, those eyes. That smile. “Nice meeting you, Pepper.”

“You too.” She tried to sound businesslike. “Take care.”

Chapter 23

Becket powered down his computer and went to the window. A few snowflakes had started to swirl in the darkening sky, but nothing serious. Thirty stories below, the streets were still clear; the traffic looked normal for the time of day, as far as he could tell.

He checked his phone, which he’d done at least a dozen times during the day, each time with a growing sense of futility. She wasn’t going to call him; he knew that, so the checking was just self-flagellation. The problem was he couldn’t decide whether he should call her or if she needed more space. And the longer he went without contacting her, the more doubt he had about how to handle her party. Would staying away be the best to not bring drama to her already fraught event, or would skipping it send a signal that the fight had been more serious than he hoped it was?

He took his dark, heavy overcoat off the hook behind his door and put it on over his suit, then donned his plaid scarf and plain black hat. It was the uniform he usually only wore when he had to attend a closing or legal proceeding. Today it had been the former, and he was now the owner of a dilapidated former warehouse in Northeast that he’d be converting into office and retail space.

It was a formula he’d had repeated success with over the past seven years, and he’d worked out the kinks by now. He knew the property management company he’d work with, the contractors he’d hire to renovate it, and the real estate agents who would most likely find his tenants. And which of his staff he’d put in charge of overseeing it all.

At this point he was pretty removed from the process, so it didn’t really have the thrill the first few buildings had had. He didn’t know he was going to miss the curveballs and hiccups until they were gone.

He walked out of his office and paused next to the reception desk, helmed by a woman with short spiky gray hair and bright red lipstick. Annie Lindstrom, the first full-time employee he’d ever had and still his best. “Heading out, boss?”

“Yeah, I’ve done about as much damage as I can do in one day. You gonna be able to leave soon?”

“Are you kidding?” she said sharply. “I’m staring down the barrel of end-of-year reporting. I’ll be here another four hours at least.” She smiled. “Don’t worry though; I’ll be sure to embezzle myself a bonus.”

“Gotta look out for yourself. Just don’t get caught by the accountants, okay?”

“Roger that, boss.” She winked. “In case the cops show up to question you, forget I said anything.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. I’d miss you too much, even if you’re robbing me blind.” He started to move past her. “Have a good night, Annie.”

“Becket, wait.” Her suddenly serious tone stopped him in his tracks.

She sighed and looked down. “I was gonna wait til next week to tell you, but I’m starting to feel like a fraud, and there’s something about this millennium stuff that’s getting to me.” Her eyes looked a little wet when she raised them again. “Listen, I gotta hang it up. It’s past time for me to retire. I’m gonna hand in my notice.”

“Annie, you’re kid—” He cut himself off, studying her face. “You’re not kidding, huh?” He held up his hand. “What if—okay, what if I gave you, like, a twenty percent raise?”

She shook her head, looking regretful but resigned. “You didn’t think I could stay forever, did you kid?” She tried for a smile. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been on Kelly’s ass so much lately—I wanted to make sure she’d be able to take care of you when I’m gone. You’ll be fine.”

Becket felt close to tears himself. “Seems like I have a knack for scaring off amazing people lately.” He tried to sound light, hating how it actually came out. He forced a more cheerful tone. “Well, that’s fantastic, Annie. I’m happy for you, and now you can enjoy your New Year’s Eve without worrying about telling me.” He gave a little salute with his gloved fingers. “Have a great night, okay?” He left quickly, hoping it didn’t seem too abrupt but unable to fake any more cheeriness.

He took the elevator down to the parking garage, then drove to the modest South Minneapolis house he lived in most of the time. If he were going on a date with Pepper, he’d have gone home first anyway, changed out of his monkey suit and into something more casual. Sometimes he even brought a change of clothes with him to the office if he was going to see her on a suit-wearing day.

He’d met her at a bar in his neighborhood and had naturally left his business life out of their conversations. He didn’t like how people acted when they found out about his wealth. He hadn’t expected to fall so hard, so fast for Pepper, and he didn’t have a game plan for when or how to reveal it to her. He’d always reckoned when he felt she was serious enough about him, he’d let her in on it. The trouble was, she was so elusive about how she felt, so it had become a guilty secret for him. And the last three days had thrown him into a tailspin.

He parked in the garage and went through the back door into the kitchen. The linoleum was the same as when he’d purchased it, clean but well worn. He changed into sweats, put a record on the turntable in the living room, and sank onto the couch to rest before getting ready, still reeling from Annie’s news. Then he checked his phone again. He couldn’t help it. Nothing.

Chapter 24

Delia got to the fourth floor in a rickety freight elevator. She held the door open with her hip, feeling it straining to close, as she wheeled out a dolly carrying her equipment.

The hallway was nondescript, but propped-open double doors led into an impressive open space with high ceilings and exposed ductwork. Eclectic furniture created seating areas in all four corners of the large room, a kitchen area with an island lined one wall, and she saw another area in back that seemed to be carved up into cubicles. Unlike the mind-numbing beige of her workspace at the catalog company, these were painted in eye-popping primary colors. Five or six people were busy putting up decorations and laying out snack and drink stations, including a keg in one corner.

“Hi, Delia?” A girl in a flannel shirt and baggy pants approached her. Her casual clothes and makeup-free face contrasted with her hair, which was a wonder—a chin-length construction of riotous curls, dark brown with deep but brilliant purple highlights, and shiny silver threads or wires woven throughout.

“Yeah, are you Pepper?” Delia was wearing an oversize hoodie and shiny black cargo pants that probably looked as incongruous together as the other girl’s hair and clothing.

“That’s me.” Pepper looked tense, but her smile carried through to her eyes. “Thank you so much for stepping in at the last minute. You have no idea. You’re amazing to do a little party like this on New Year’s Eve.”

“No biggie,” Delia lied. “I was thinking about laying low because I’d gotten the flu, so I hadn’t booked anything. But then right when I was getting better, you called, so it worked out perfectly for me!”

“Very cool.” Pepper looked at her equipment. “You have a lot more stuff to bring up?”

“Maybe one more trip.” Delia had brought her CD setup instead of vinyl, so it was less overall, but it still added up.

“Let me get you some help. Erik!” Pepper called to an average-looking white guy on a ladder on the other side of the room, where he was hanging silver and black streamers. He dismounted and came over. “This is Delia, our DJ.” They shook hands. “Could you help her get the rest of her things up here?”

“You got it.” Erik followed Delia into the elevator and back down to the ground floor.

The guy was solicitous and helpful, and soon she had her equipment piled in a corner of the room. As she was setting up on a steel table, running cords to a power strip and getting everything connected, Pepper came over. “Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“I’ll wait a little bit,” Delia said.

“Okay, well just let me know if you need anything. I’m kind of running around like a crazy person so grab me if I don’t check in.” Pepper pulled a check out of her pants pocket. “In fact, let me give this to you before I forget.”

“Thanks.” Delia pretended to inspect it before tucking it into a messenger bag by her feet. “And tell Becket thanks for recommending me, next time you see him!”

“Oh, he should be coming tonight!” Pepper’s face dropped a little. “I mean, I think he’s gonna try to stop by.”

“You know him well?” Delia had always had a little crush on Becket, and it seemed Pepper might too.

“Yeah, pretty well.” Delia was fascinated by the mix of emotions flickering across Pepper’s face but couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“I only know him from karaoke but he seems like a really cool guy.”

“Yeah, he is.” Pepper shifted uncomfortably. She scanned the room until she saw something that needed her attention. “Okay, I’ll be back, but like I said, holler if you need me!” Her parting smile was less certain than the one she’d greeted Delia with.

Delia put on a CD of electronic dance music, then cruised the room listening to it from all angles, going back to adjust her system and repeating the ritual. Pepper looked up from unwrapping trays of canapes to give her a thumbs-up and a smile.

Back at her station, she left the CD on but turned the volume down to a level where the preppers could easily talk to each other. She’d bring it up gradually as the party filled up.

She pulled out her phone and shot off a text to Ankala. In the rush of setting up for this, which was exciting after taking time off from DJing, Delia had nearly stopped thinking about her plans for Teddy. Now that she had time to think about it, the anticipation was unbearable.

But he wasn’t here yet, and she had to do something to pass the time. She dug into her CD crate, making some adjustments to the order as she thought through her set, stopping occasionally to exchange texts with Ankala.

Chapter 25

Becket questioned his decision all the way to Great Dane, even on the way up the elevator. He and Pepper still hadn’t called or texted each other. His unease had grown for days, wondering whether she was hoping he didn’t come to the party. But then what happened if he didn’t show up? This uncertain chasm between them would grow even more. At least this way, he could try to show support and prove to her he wasn’t angry.

And he wasn’t, not exactly. He felt more on the edge of panic, confused as to how their relationship had ruptured so quickly and easily. It seemed the foundation was even less solid than he’d thought. He’d spent plenty of time over the past couple days fantasizing about grand romantic gestures that would end the silence between them and make Pepper fall head over heels with him once and for all. If he thought any of them would work, he’d’ve spared no expense to pull one of them off. He was even still carrying the ring everywhere he went, as if the perfect moment might present itself at any time.

But, satisfying movie endings aside, trying something like that in real life was just a power play. The exact opposite of what Pepper would want, he knew. At least he thought he knew.

As the elevator doors parted, the wide open doors of Great Dane revealed a transformation from the office he’d seen a couple times when picking Pepper up for lunch or after work. He stepped through a glittering silver fringe curtain into the large main area. Streamers festooned the walls, colorful lightbulbs in lamps and wall fixtures created moody areas around the room, and silver and black foil stars and dots were scattered everywhere, on tables, counters, and the floor. A thumping electronic beat pulsated through the space.

About fifteen or twenty people clustered in small groups around the keg and near counters groaning with food and bottles of wine and liquor. Pepper was nowhere to be seen.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see Delia waving at him from behind a table full of equipment. He grinned with relief at the familiar face and headed toward her.

“Hey, it’s a role reversal.” He gestured at her gear. “Usually I’m the one entertaining you, right?”

She laughed. “That’s right—you’ve only seen me when I’m off duty!” She turned in a circle and held up her hands in a “ta da!” gesture. “Now I’m in uniform.”

He had to admit her uniform was impressive. She’d traded the baggy T-shirts or sweatshirts she wore to karaoke for a gold lame backless halter top with a lace-up bodice and shiny black cargo pants that hung low on her hips, leaving a delicious expanse of skin in between. Her braids, black and hot pink and brilliant blue, were dotted with gold seashell-shaped decorations. Becket felt a little plain in his white button-down shirt, slacks and blazer, which he’d dubiously picked out in the absence of any guidance from Pepper.

“Thank you for doing this, by the way.”

“Why do y’all keep thanking me? It’s a paying gig.” She laughed. “I should be thanking you for recommending me. Pepper said you might be coming—I’m glad you did!”

The hollow feeling resurfaced in the pit of his stomach at the mention of her name and the word “friend.” Still, she’d said he might come; that was somewhat encouraging, maybe.

“Yeah, you know, Pepper’s talked about it so much, I didn’t want to miss it.” He hoped he sounded casual.

“You guys hang out a lot?” Delia asked, and he thought she was trying to read his face. He swallowed, not sure how deep undercover Pepper wanted him to be. Since she’d clearly made it seem to Delia that they were just friends, he played it safe.

“Yeah, I guess so. She’s been planning this party for a while, so she’s mentioned it a few times.”

“I think it’ll be off the hook.” Delia gestured out at the space. “This many people this early is a good sign.”

“Good.” Big parties weren’t something Becket had a lot of experience with.

A shrill whistle split the air and made both Delia and Becket look around.

“Wow.” Delia drew the word out in an impressed tone.

Pepper had emerged from the back area of cubicles, separated from the main room by another curtain of silver fringe. Nearly everyone in the room froze in awe.

Her silver two-piece outfit—short shorts and a midriff-baring halter top—clung to her curves, each movement revealing dark undertones in the shimmering fabric. Fishnet stockings in a thin, fine pattern covered her legs down to silver platform sandals.

Wherever her skin was exposed it was coated with a subtle glimmer of silver. Her curly hair, threaded with silver, was topped with black and rhinestone bunny ears, and a matching tail was fastened to her shorts. Her eyes were ringed with eyeliner that extended past the outer corners of her eyes and tilted up, giving her a coquettish look. Her lips were encased in dark red lipstick—not black, but approaching it.

Her coworkers whistled and clapped, and she made a mock curtsy, smiling. Becket had never seen her dressed up to that level—or revealing that much outside of the bedroom—but if she was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it. She strode confidently into the middle of the room, then went to talk to some of her wolf-whistling admirers.

Becket felt his stomach churn as everyone’s eyes roamed over Pepper’s body, which seemed to invite sex from every angle. He turned back toward Delia, struggling to arrange his features into a neutral expression, and caught her looking at him with what might’ve been pity.

“She looks great.” He tried valiantly to sound like a supportive friend not being eaten away with jealousy or desire.

“Sure does.” Delia eyed her admiringly. “She’s gonna single-handedly make this party off the chain.”

Just then Pepper caught sight of Becket. She waved and beckoned him over. He approached her in what he hoped was a casual way, hands in his pockets to curb the instinct to hug her. “Wow, you look amazing.”

“Thanks.” Her smile was guarded, but at least it was there. “This was all Kevvy’s doing, even the makeup—he gave me a tutorial and everything.”

“It’s very … cool. Thanks for inviting me.” He couldn’t seem to break out of fake neutral party chatter mode, and it made him more and more uncomfortable.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Really?” He hated how needy that sounded. “I mean, I’m glad—I didn’t want you to think I’m here to make things difficult for you.” He wished he could stop. “But I didn’t want to stay away in case that seemed weird.” Well, congratulations, he told himself with disgust, now everything’s weird.

Despite that disaster of an insecure ramble, Pepper smiled a little, almost affectionately he thought—or maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. “Really,” she said in answer to his question. “Look, I might not have much time to hang out tonight. But I’m glad to see you. I—I want to talk soon, okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds great.” Becket clamped his lips against anything stupid he might try to say. “Good luck tonight. Let me know if you need anything.”

They smiled with an awkward politeness between them that was painful compared with how they usually were. Still, it was better than anger. He’d take it.

Chapter 26

Griff was a little later than he’d meant to be, arriving shortly after nine thirty. He’d been hustling to sell the last of his ecstasy, except the thirty pills he’d set aside for Pepper, and keeping a careful running total. He’d ended up giving a bulk discount for fifty of them to one of Rocky’s friends, which had brought his cash supply up to forty-seven hundred. His sale to Pepper would push him over the edge and then some, and he even had a few extra in case he found a taker at her party.

His meeting to hand off his portion of the money was in an hour, but he wasn’t worried about getting there. He’d hardly been able to believe it when Pepper had given him her work address—in the same building as his meetup. It felt fortuitous.

He almost didn’t recognize her for a second, despite her distinctive purple-streaked curls. He’d found her cute during their brief first meeting, but he wasn’t prepared for how she looked now. She was the focal point of the room. Even the bunny ears and tail, which should have been silly, somehow added to her cool.

He felt almost shy as he approached her. He’d cleaned up as well as he could with his limited wardrobe options, glad he’d thought to save his favorite jeans and black shirt from the abandoned car. He didn’t think anyone would notice the slight fraying on the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, but he knew it was there.

Pepper waved and called to him when he got close enough for her to notice him.

“Sorry I’m kinda late,” he told her, trying not to look too obviously at her body on tempting display.

“No, you’re fine.” She sounded more confident and upbeat than the first time they’d met. “Um, this is Becket.” She gestured to a man standing next to her, maybe a little older and slightly shorter than Griff but good-looking in an effortless way. “Becket, Griff.”

The two shook hands.

“Well, let me show you where to put your coat.” Pepper turned to Becket with a polite smile. “Excuse us.” He smiled and nodded, looking guarded. Griff wondered what he’d interrupted.

“Your outfit is sick,” Griff said in frank admiration as she led the way through a curtain of silver into a room full of brightly colored cubicles.

“Thanks. Thought I might as well go all out, you know? End of the millennium, right?” She turned left down a row of red partitions and entered a darkened office. Griff followed her.

“You got it?” She lowered her voice though they hadn’t passed anyone on their way.

He gave her three small baggies of ten pills each. She reached into a tiny black drawstring pouch around her wrist and pulled out a wad of cash. She handed it to him and tucked the baggies into her purse in its place.

“You should count it,” she told him. “My head’s been all over the place today.”

Griff was grateful that she’d made it easy for him to count it without seeming suspicious of her. He flipped through the bills, just able to make them out in the darkness, then stuffed them into his coat pocket. “Yep, all here!”

“Great.” They stood quietly, very close together, in the small office a little longer. He thought he felt the air grow heavy with significance and wondered if they were about to kiss. His heart pounded as he imagined what it would feel like.

Then she broke the spell by making a move toward the door. Feeling let down, but also foolish that he’d allowed his imagination to go there, he followed her lead.

“I hope your work’s done for the day,” she said over her shoulder as she led him back to the main room. “Maybe you can stay for a little while?”

He checked his watch; he still had over forty-five minutes until his meetup. This would be as good a place as any to kill some time, and then he just had to go up two floors. “Yeah, sure, thanks.”

Back in the main party space, Pepper hurried off to meet more guests. Griff poured himself a plastic cup of vodka with ice and surveyed the room.

The DJ stand caught his attention first with its spinning lights on either side of the table. Then he noticed the DJ herself.

He recognized her right away, then doubted himself because she looked so different, but as he got close he became convinced again. She was utterly transformed, except her face; he’d recognize those eyes and lips anywhere. He’d spent plenty of time in high school stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Delia?” She looked up from her equipment, pulling up one earpiece of her headphones, and smiled politely.

“Yeah, hi—you got a request?”

He shook his head, grinning, that stupid shy feeling coming back over him. “Remember me? Griffin. Westlake High!”

A faint recognition dawned on her face; he was a little chagrined at how faint. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “I think I do remember you!”

He laughed self-deprecatingly. “It’s been a long time, I know.”

“No, yeah, that’s right. We had AP English together, right? Mrs. Comstock?”

“That’s right.” He felt oddly relieved and gratified that she even vaguely remembered him. “I had really short hair back then. You’ve changed even more than I have. Your hair is killer!”

“Oh, thank you.” She touched her braids. “A lot better than my bangs and ponytail, huh?”

Griff chuckled, remembering. “I don’t know, I liked it. ”

She cocked her head. “You were kind of a bad boy, if I remember.”

Griff felt his face get a little warm. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go with that! Sounds a lot better than hopeless fuckup.”

“Surprised you remember me—I did my best to stay invisible back then.”

“How could I not? You were such a cute nerdy girl.”

“Well. As the only Black girl in the AP classes that year, I must’ve stuck out like a sore thumb, so I was easy to remember.”

Her tone was light, but Griff shook his head, imagining what it would’ve been like for Delia at their ninety-nine percent white high school. Then he smiled and gestured to her outfit. “Anyway, damn, you’re not nerdy anymore, huh?”

“This is just a facade.” She leaned toward him, eyebrows raised conspiratorially, and it did something funny to his stomach. “Once a nerd, always a nerd.” They laughed together, but hers died away as something behind him caught her eye. Griff turned. He recognized the red-faced drunk guy from the Six Twelve. And then he remembered what he’d overheard there.

Feeling queasy, he mumbled something to Delia and stepped away from the DJ stand. She barely noticed; she was watching the guy approach, now with a big smile on her face. “Teddy!”

“Lady D,” Griff heard Ted say as he went behind the DJ table and scooped her into his arms, lifting her a few inches off the floor. “Holy shit do you look hot today, babe!”

Griff continued to back away, trying not to stare. He couldn’t hear what Delia said as she ran her finger down the guy’s chest, looking into his eyes with a sweet and suggestive smile. Griff shook his head and turned away. It wasn’t any of his business, either, he told himself miserably, echoing what Pepper had said to Ted in the bar. He just wished he didn’t know, especially now that he knew it was his Delia getting played.

Chapter 27

Pepper ran back to Becket, flush with victory. “Hi!”

“Hi. What was that about?” He gestured at Griff pouring himself a drink, still wearing his ancient leather jacket. “Clearly not helping him put his coat away.”

“Very observant. Well…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Can you keep a secret?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I have just scored some ecstasy. You want some?”

He smiled. “Maybe not tonight. Another time.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Did you take some?”

“Not yet. Not sure if I want it tonight either.” She smiled a bit wistfully, wishing she could spend the whole party with him.

Becket started to say something else, but she saw her prey walk through the silver-lined entrance and forgot all else. “Oh shit, he’s here.” She patted her hair lightly and ran her hands down her barely there outfit. “Wish me luck, Beck?” She felt guilty as soon as she said it, but he just nodded.

“Good luck, Pepper.”

She resisted the urge to kiss him and walked purposefully toward Doug Davidson. She knew he was in his late thirties, but he looked at least a decade older than Beck, his skin weathered and tanned (though at this time of year it had to be from a tanning booth or a bottle, she thought). He wore a black T-shirt tucked into an expensive-looking pair of trousers and a suit coat and watched her approach with a wide smile.

“Hi Doug!”

“Pepper. It’s so good to see you again.” He looked her up and down. “So good. You look incredible tonight.”

“Aww, thank you. Welcome to Great Dane! Let me get you a drink and show you around.”

“Party’s looking all right,” he said, following her to the drinks station.

She tensed up a little, sensing something backhanded in his comment. “Oh, it’s just getting started.”

“Good.” His eyes traveled up and down her again. This was going to be a hard balancing act, she thought with dismay.

She forced a smile. “So, what do you want to drink?”

Chapter 28

Griff tore his eyes away from Delia and Ted just in time to rest his gaze on Pepper and Doug. He watched them for a couple minutes and felt even worse. He knew Delia was being strung along, but at least she looked happy. With Pepper, he could see a drastic change in her demeanor now that she was talking to Doug, like she was forcing herself not to recoil away, even as she stubbornly stayed close to him. Griff wasn’t sure it was obvious to other people, but it was clear as day to him.

Feeling unaccountably sad at the fortunes of these two women he barely knew, he finished his drink and headed for the door, nodding at Becket as he passed him. Becket looked even more unhappy than he was, but he raised a friendly hand as Griff walked out.

He still had fifteen minutes before the meetup, so he went down to the street for a cigarette. He checked his phone, which he’d put it on silent once his selling was done for the day, and saw several missed calls from Rocky.

“Dude!” The familiar bray buzzed through the receiver. “Everything okay? I dropped off my money a few hours ago and Chuck said he hadn’t heard from you.”

“Yeah, man, I just got the last of my money. I’m set to meet him in about ten minutes.”

“Oh good—I was freaking out. You know if you don’t get your share in, we’re both out, right?”

“Yeah, dude, it’s okay. I’m about to head up.”

“Okay.” Pacified, Rocky’s excitement bubbled up. “Can you believe it’s about to go down? Y2K, motherfucker!”

“Y2K,” Griff agreed, trying to muster some enthusiasm, and got off the phone as soon as he could get Rocky to stop babbling. He couldn’t tell why he felt so depressed. It wasn’t just what he’d witnessed at the party, though that definitely hadn’t helped. Watching two amazing women fawn over men who weren’t worthy to lick their shoes was pretty bad. It wasn’t just that, though.

He watched an older woman struggle to push a shopping cart crammed with belongings through mounds of ice and snow across the street and onto the sidewalk. The light turned green and a car that was waiting to go started honking. She flinched and pushed harder, but the front wheel was hopelessly jammed. The honking got more insistent. Griff finally tore himself away from the side of the building and ran to the woman. He grabbed the bar between the two front wheels of the shopping cart and pulled. At last the snow released it and he hauled it onto the sidewalk.

As he did, the wad of cash Pepper had given him fell out of his pocket. Frantic, he ran away from the woman after the money being dispersed by the wind. Luckily most of it stuck to the slightly damp snow and were easy to collect. He turned back and saw the woman, bent and slow, scurrying as fast as she could to pick up a handful of bills that had blown the other way in a spiraling gust. He hurried toward her, ready to shout at her to give them back. She thrust the crumpled handful she’d managed to gather toward him before he could say anything.

“There’s a few more there, in the gutter.” Her voice rattled hoarsely as she pointed. “I can get them when the light changes. I was afraid I’d get hit.”

Griff followed her finger and knelt to gather the last of them. “Thank you.”

She started to push her cart down the sidewalk. “Wait.” He looked at the wad in his hand and peeled off three twenties. “Here.”

“Oh thank you, young man.” She smiled, looking surprised, and took them with a shaking hand. “Bless you. Bless you.”

Griff looked at his watch and swore. His ten minutes had evaporated and he was officially a minute late. He hurried back into the building and toward the elevator bank. But as he neared it, his pace slowed. His finger hovered over the up button without pushing it. Then he opened the door next to it instead and started taking the stairs, slowly.

Chapter 29

Delia was having an absolutely fantastic time. With vengeance within reach, she had no trouble being all over Teddy. In fact for once he was the more reluctant one, looking around frequently as she groped him. She figured some of his coworkers knew about her and others about Ankala; he probably kept his social circle as surgically divided as he did the bars and restaurants he brought each of them to. His discomfort made her enjoy it even more.

Teddy wandered out occasionally to get another beer or check in with his friends but, true to his word, he stuck close to her most of the time. Probably, she thought, to do damage control in case someone who knew Ankala came close and said something to blow his cover.

Whatever the reason, it made her job easy; she didn’t have to move an inch from her station to get him worked up. She kept an eye on the time; building Teddy’s excitement and building the drama of her set were more similar than she’d expected.

She hopped off her stool to fade from one song to another, nodding her head with her hand pressed to the headphones until she was satisfied with the transition. Then she sidled toward Teddy’s stool, bouncing slightly to the beat, insinuating herself between his thighs. She could feel his erection against her belly. She saw him looking down at her breasts and the thin gold straps of her halter top that strained against them. “Babe, damn, what are you doing to me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a not-sorry voice in his ear. “It’s just been too long—I can’t help it.”

Teddy looked around for the thousandth time and then slipped his finger under one of her shoulder straps and down to the top of her breast. “Can you get out of here early?” he asked in a wheedling tone. It was so perfectly timed to Delia’s schedule that she almost laughed at him. Instead she closed her eyes, feigning enjoyment, and then opened them and gave him the most welcoming look she could muster.

“I can’t do that, baby. But, I can put on a mix CD so I don’t have to be right here for a little while.” She ran her fingernails lightly down his arm, making him shiver. “I did a little scouting when I got here and there’s a bathroom on the next floor down that’s unlocked.” She pressed against him again. “I know you’re kinda shy about your coworkers seeing you, so I figured if we get out of the office … ” She pursed her lips and watched him focus on them, enraptured. “We’ll have to make it fast, but after so long, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

He was already nodding. She smiled and patted his cheek. “Let me just tell Pepper I’m taking a break. Meet me out in the hall, okay?”

Delia shot Ankala a text and got an almost instantaneous response. Then she ran to Pepper, who was laughing with an older man who had his arm around her waist. She agreed readily to Delia’s proposed break, clearly wrapped up in whatever it was this guy had going for him—Delia was skeptical it was anything good, but it was none of her business.

She saw Becket on her way back to the DJ stand and got an idea. “Could you keep an eye on this while I’m taking a break?” He was standing alone, clearly bored—and possibly upset—and agreed at once.

She led him back to the table, put on her mix, and explained a couple things he could do if the mix ended or there was a technical glitch while she was gone.

Then she raced out the door, her mind on her timetable. Teddy was waiting where she’d instructed him—he could be quite compliant if it meant getting sex. “Let’s go, baby!”

Chapter 30

The ecstasy was kicking in for Doug. It had gone over well with him, as it had with Pepper’s team—an impressed ripple seemed to spread through their ranks as they learned she’d scored and was doling them out for free. She’d had a steady stream of grateful coworkers come by for one, including Mark. If she’d known this was all it took, she’d’ve brought X to work a long time ago, she thought sourly.

She hadn’t taken any herself—she wanted to stay focused, even if Doug wasn’t, and see if she could at least extract an informal agreement from him to consider a proposal.

And make sure his hands didn’t get farther than she wanted them to. She was already uncomfortable—she had been since the first time he’d raked his eyes over her like she was a piece of meat.

Still, she had to admit the outfit had been a master stroke; she owed Erik for the idea. Doug was glued to her side with barely any effort on her part. And despite the odd circumstances, she grew excited as she explained the broad strokes of brand strategy to him.

He was nodding along with her, or possibly just to the beat of the music. His eyes were slightly glassy. “You know, I believe you Pepper, and you seem super smart, but also, like half of those words sounded like sexual innuendos to me.” He ran his hand up her mostly bare back, and it took every ounce of willpower not to recoil from him. Everything he touched after this would be covered in glitter for days, she thought. She hoped he had a car with really expensive leather seats.

He laughed at his own hilarity when she didn’t react to what he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, keep going honey. I’m very interested in your ideas.”

From the corner of her eye, Pepper thought she caught Becket looking at her, but when she looked at him he was engrossed in studying Delia’s DJ setup. She sighed and tried to pick up where she’d left off.

Chapter 31

Every step he took felt a little heavier and harder, but it wasn’t just the physical exertion of climbing six stories. Griff felt like he might be about to make the stupidest decision of his shitty, stupid-decision-riddled life.

By the time he reached the sixth floor, he knew it.

He opened the door of the stairwell with a heavy heart. A man stood in the hallway, arms folded.

“You Chuck?”

“You’re late.” The man’s eyes peered balefully through greenish glasses, and his thin lank hair, which reached the collar of his T-shirt, seemed stuck flat to his head with grease. A tech geek straight out of central casting. You sure look like a Chuck, Griff thought.

“Yeah, sorry, there was this old lady who needed—”

“You got your share or what?” Chuck interrupted. Another thing Griff appreciated about Chuck, he was making this shitty decision easier with every word he said.

“Here’s the deal, Chuck.” Griff inhaled deeply to slow his breathing. “This little old lady helped me pick up my drug money, which I was going to use to steal a load more money, and she gave it all back to me. She wasn’t gonna keep a buck for herself. She probably didn’t have enough money to get into a shelter tonight, but she gave it all back without me even asking.”

“Hey, I don’t wanna know how you made the money, fuckhead. I just need you to hand it over.”

“I’m getting to that, Chuck.” Griff’s head hurt. “Sorry if I’m rambling; I’ve had a long day. A long week. A long fucking life. Anyway, before that, I saw these two awesome girls getting screwed over by absolute assholes. And before that, I almost screwed over a girl—hell, let’s just say it, Chuck, it would’ve been rape. I actually considered raping an unconscious girl.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad an idea, if she wasn’t gonna wake up,” Chuck said, suddenly interested in his rambling, and Griff almost lunged at him but held back.

“And before that, I almost stole a guy’s car while he had a gun pointed at him by another guy. And before that, I borrowed and stole and cheated people out of money to be able to stand here and give you a bunch of drug money so you can use it to fuck over a shit-ton more people.”

“Hey, I told you I didn’t want to know how you—”

“But,” Griff said loudly over Chuck’s irritated sputtering, “but somewhere in between all that I met a man who gave me a ride, let me sleep, bought me a bus ticket, and gave me some advice that I guess took a while to hit me.”

Chuck had fallen sullenly silent, arms folded. “What I’m trying to say, Chuck, is that somewhere on the way here I decided. I can’t be part of your deal. And so the only reason I’m here is to ask you to please still let Rocky in for half a share because he already gave you the money, and he was counting on me, but I can’t be part of this anymore.”

He took another deep breath and waited until Chuck found his voice again, sounding more defensive than irritated now. “Now, now, now wait a minute. You’re not screwing anyone over that hasn’t already been screwed by the bank! See, most of these accounts, the banks could track down the people that owned them and make sure they get their money out. But they don’t want to. Because they want to keep the money—it actually makes the bank money. So they’re the predators, basically. ”

“Right.” Griff drew out the word as if thinking it over. “But we’re not exactly planning to give the money back to the rightful owners, are we, Chuck?”

“Look, it’s just a computer thing. It’s not gonna affect anyone personally,” Chuck’s voice took on a desperate, pleading edge. “You wanna come see the servers? You’ll see it’s just a bunch of bleeps and bloops, ones and zeroes.” He scoffed. “Believe me buddy, compared with some of the other stuff you say you’ve done, this is a very minor thing.”

That blow hit its mark. Griff felt like he might’ve flinched visibly. “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. And like maybe this is mostly symbolic or whatever. But—I’ve got to start somewhere, and this is where it starts. I’m gonna try to use this drug money and build some kind of honest life for myself.”

He turned to the elevator. Before he could press the button, he heard a click behind him. “No.” Chuck’s tone had changed again, now sounding cold and grim.

Griff wheeled around. “Listen, motherfucker, you—” He stopped and stared at the gun. It looked out of place in Chuck’s pale hand, but he did look like he knew how to use it.

“Fine.” Chuck shrugged, but the barrel didn’t even wobble. “You’re out of the deal. Your buddy can be in for half a share. But you’re still giving me the fucking money.”

Griff froze, his insides like ice.

“Who is gonna care if they find you dead? And what would you tell the police if you went to them? ‘Somebody stole my drug money’? Give it up, asshole. Easy come easy go.”

There was no other option. The man grabbed the wad of cash before he could separate out the extra amount. All fifty-five hundred or so of it disappeared into Chuck’s pocket.

Chapter 32

Delia and Teddy clattered down the steps to the third floor and slammed their way into the ladies’ room. Giggling, Delia pulled him by the shirt to the far wall and leaned back against the cold tiles, drawing him closer. He groaned and thrust against her several times, squeezing her breasts under the halter top.

She was pretty sure someone had given him X, because she noted with suppressed hilarity that he wasn’t as hard as before but didn’t seem to notice.

He was still excited to be touching her, so she helped him pull his pants off and let him grind rather pointlessly against her (the word pointless popped into her head and she almost snorted laughter) for a while longer. Then she regretfully pushed him back.

“Babe, I gotta pee. Wait a second, okay?”

Teddy moaned and leaned against the wall himself, touching his own face and neck as if feeling his skin for the first time. Delia bit back laughter. This was almost too easy with him so fucked up. On impulse, she grabbed his pants off the floor on the way to the stall and stuffed them in the toilet.

She stood motionless in the stall. A few seconds later she heard another door unlatch and swing open. Footsteps. Then Teddy’s moaning got louder. “Oh baby, Delia, that feels so—hey—what—?”

Delia flung her stall open. “You fucking asshole, you got caught!” Teddy’s eyes were wide and confused. Ankala stood next to him, doubled over with laughter.

“That’s right, b-bitch.” Ankala could barely talk. “Oh Dee, his face—I can’t even—”

“Am I tripping?” Teddy looked between them, mystified. “Is this real?”

Delia suddenly wished he weren’t high. Would this supposed lesson even register or would it seem like a weird dream to him? “It’s real, Teddy.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking real.” Ankala’s laughter died down as her anger returned. “Fucking with two Black women in the same fucking business—how the fuck did you think that would end?”

Teddy struggled for some composure. “Look, I’m so sorry. I never thought I’d fall twice—I wasn’t looking for that, Delia! It was just an accident. But Ankala, you were so amazing, I just couldn’t help it.”

Delia rolled her eyes, but she felt more dejected than angry. Ankala noticed. “Are you all right, girl?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Delia sighed. “I’m just realizing this motherfucker isn’t even worth trying to educate.”

Ankala frowned. “Yeah, you might be right.”

“Your pants are in there.” Delia gestured to her stall. “I don’t know if you want ’em though; might just be better to sneak home without ’em.”

Ankala started giggling again. “Nice freestyle, by the way.”

Delia smiled, though the fun had been drained from the situation.

Teddy picked up his shoes and walked cautiously between the girls like they were tigers or something. He peered into the toilet and groaned. “My fucking phone was in my pocket.”

Ankala rounded on him, eyes flashing. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to talk about being treated unfairly?”

He put his hands up. “Never mind.” He scrubbed his face. “Okay. Okay. I’m gonna go back to the party and call a cab.”

“You do that,” Ankala said. “We’ll give you a five-minute head start to get in and get out—otherwise, if we see you in that party, there could be an even bigger scene than this.”

Teddy nodded, defeated, and stumbled out of the bathroom in his boxers.

Ankala turned her attention back to Delia. “Girl, I get it. You built it up so much in your head, it was bound to be disappointing.”

“Maybe.”

Ankala wrapped her arms around her. “Hey, at least we got a new friend out of this whole shithole of a situation, right?”

Delia did smile a little at that. “Right.” She took Ankala’s hand. “So you are gonna come to the party for a little bit?”

“Fuck yeah.” Ankala brightened again. “I deserve to get a little crunk after what we been through!”

Chapter 33

With gentle repetition of her pitch on brand strategy, and equally gentle redirecting of Doug’s hands to keep him happy enough without letting him actually undress her in front of her entire office, Pepper was keeping the man monopolized. He seemed to have peaked pretty quickly, so she kept him plied with drinks—whiskey and Cokes that were mostly Coke for the caffeine, so his comedown wouldn’t be unpleasant.

It was too early to celebrate, but she felt it. Maybe in a week, maybe sooner if she pushed, she’d be able to dump a signed agreement on Mark’s desk for the hottest up-and-coming dot com in the Twin Cities.

The party was a success too; it was the lesser of her two priorities, but she felt triumphant every time she looked around at the throngs of guests—the room looked nearly full and it was still relatively early in the night.

It was getting a little rowdy too—a good thing for an ad party. A group of guys were taking turns doing keg stands, and there was some serious making out in the corners of the room. The X had all been given away—she hadn’t kept one for herself, but she was fine with that. The rush of seeing her plans come together was plenty.

A cheer arose from a small pack of guys near the entrance. Brianna, one of Great Dane’s receptionists, had just made a grand entrance. She had long blond hair that she almost always ironed smooth so it was a shimmering sheet of silky gold, and it was perfection tonight. As was her outfit. A pastel pink version of a classic Playboy bunny outfit, complete with plushy ears and tail.

A weird coincidence, but, Pepper supposed, a pretty classic party outfit idea. Maybe better suited for Halloween, it was so literal, but she could see Brianna choosing something like that.

She saw Doug’s eyes light up, but she got his attention back with a light touch on his arm.

Another roar, this time of laughter. Teddy, for some reason wearing only boxers and a shirt, slunk through the crowd with a sheepish grin, his ruddy face a little redder than usual. Pepper pressed her lips together in amusement. She was sure she’d hear what had happened to him when they were back at work on Monday.

Another commotion at the door caught her eye. This time it was Mary Anne, one of the project managers. Her figure was fuller than slender Brianna’s, and her cleavage was practically bursting out of the top of a black satiny bunny ensemble. Erik approached Mary Anne, grinning.

Pepper frowned. Something bothered her, tickling at the back of her brain. But she ignored it and got back to Doug.

It happened again. And again. Soon there were five other women wearing Playboy bunny outfits wandering the party. Two of them, Pru and Celeste, passed close enough that Pepper could hear what they were saying to each other.

“He made it sound like this super secret idea he was giving me.”

“Same here! I feel kinda tricked, don’t you?”

“Yeah, what a little shit! But, you know, whatever. It’s pretty funny.”

“Yeah. Where’d you get your teddy? It’s amazing.”

“Oh, I went to—”

Their voices faded.

“This party’s incredible!” Doug said loudly. He looked around, delighted.

“Yeah.” Pepper felt frozen, trying to make sense of what she’d overheard. She saw Erik talking to another of the bunnies. She tried to shake the growing unease in her gut, but her groundswell of confidence was starting to evaporate. She busied herself fixing a drink, frowning at her hands.

“Hello, ladies,” Doug said in his smarmiest tone yet. Pepper looked up and the floor dropped out from under her.

Erik approached, surrounded by the other five women dressed as bunnies. He shook Doug’s hand and introduced himself.

“Did you make this happen?” Doug gestured at the gaggle of girls around him.

“Well, yeah, it may have been my idea.” Erik grinned. “Anyway, I wondered if you wanted a picture with them?”

“Shit yeah!” Doug looked like he’d won the lottery. “Take a bunch—this might become my new art in my office!”

“Come on, girls.” Erik picked up the camera dangling from his neck. The women, some looking annoyed or resigned, gamely gathered around Doug.

“Wait, where’s Pepper?” Doug spotted her, the liquor bottle clutched forgotten in her hand. “Pepper, get your ass over here!” he brayed. “Can’t leave my first bunny out of the picture!”

The air was hard to move through and she felt like she was going in slow motion, like in a nightmare. She set the bottle down next to her cup and walked mechanically over to Doug. He brought her next to him and put his arm around her, hand cupping her behind, squeezing it.

Erik waved his free hand at the group. “Gather around closer.”

“Pinky, you come here on my other side.” Brianna sidled up to Doug with a smile. He made a satisfied sound and Pepper imagined his other hand was probably on Brianna’s ass now.

Pepper felt a smile paste itself on her face. She was glad her body had the wherewithal to go through the motions that would bring this moment to an end, since her brain seemed to have deserted her.

“Awesome.” Erik clicked several shots. “Thanks ladies. And sorry about the little ruse, but you’re all good sports.”

Still with her smile plastered on, Pepper extracted herself from Doug’s paw. “Erik, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure!” Erik returned her fake smile. “Be right back, Doug.”

She led him a few yards away and rounded on him with eyes blazing. “Okay, what the fucking fuck did you do, Erik? Did you set me up to be some fucking prop in a big practical joke or something?”

He sighed, his smile fading a little but still playing around the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Pepper. I didn’t at first, when we had coffee. But after we talked, I started thinking, all that advice I gave you about using whatever weapons you have, why shouldn’t I do that myself? I mean, that’s what this whole industry is about. I like you, I do think you’re a really great account rep. But I’ve gotta look out for myself first.” He shrugged. “You know, maybe this is gonna be, like, a learning experience for you, right? You’ve just got to outsmart everyone else, and this time, you got outsmarted. You’ll win the next one.”

Pepper was apoplectic. Frozen in her anger, she glared at Erik until he finally backed away from her and returned to Doug, who by that point was deep in handsy conversation with a very compliant-looking Brianna. But he acknowledged Erik’s return with a fist bump and a clap on the shoulder.

Chapter 34

Delia returned to her station with minutes to spare on the mix she’d put on. Becket had a distracted, faraway look on his face, but he confirmed that everything had gone smoothly while she was gone.

He went to get them drinks, and Delia put her headphones back on and cued up her next transition. The beats rang hollow in her ear and she stumbled a little on the crossfade, but the brief period of disjointed beats wasn’t noticeable to anyone else, she was sure. People continued to trickle in as eleven o’clock drew near, and the main room was packed. The party had spread to the next room, with small groups standing in the spaces between cubicles.

Becket returned with a plastic tumbler of pink wine and handed it to her, then perched on one of the stools. She was glad he was staying. “How’s it been going?”

Becket shrugged, his face hard to read. “Pretty lit, like you predicted.” He took a gulp from a red plastic cup of beer. “You having a good night?”

She started to reach for a platitude, then gave up. “For real? It’s been the fucking worst.”

“Really?” He sounded a little surprised, though not much. “Well, if we’re being honest here, my night has sucked ass too.”

His eyes flicked over to where the party hostess still held her overly tanned admirer enthralled. Delia followed his gaze and it clicked. “Pepper?”

Becket looked down. “Yeah.” Then he looked her in the eye. “No. It’s not Pepper. It’s me.”

Delia caught a defeated tone in his voice that matched how she felt. She put a hand on his arm. “I could use someone to talk to right now. What about you?”

“I’d like that.” His eyes locked with hers for a heavy moment.

“Let me see if Ankala would step in for me. If not, it might have to wait til later.”

“Okay.”

“Wait here.”

He attempted a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ankala was in the high spirits Delia had expected to be in herself after their revenge had been carried out. She was more than happy to take over on the sound system, possibly to show off for the cute fanboy still fawning over her.

Delia took Becket into the hall, to a lumpy loveseat against the wall near the elevators. It looked discarded, but its ancient sagging cushions felt comfortable as they sank deep into them. And it was far enough away from the party that the music and shouting and laughing were reduced to a dull roar.

Delia sipped her wine. “Whose tale of woe should we start with?”

“You go first.”

“Okay.” She glanced at him with a wry smile. “Mine is a cautionary tale called ‘Never Date a White Boy.’”

He laughed. “Oh wow, I can already tell it’s gonna top mine.”

She poured out her story, from meeting Teddy to the present. She found herself crying as she remembered, but it was over having lost the feeling of being infatuated, of feeling loved, and no longer having thirst for revenge as a substitute. She’d already stopped actually caring about Teddy weeks before, she realized, and tried to explain that through her tears.

Becket held out his arms, and she scooted closer to him on the couch so he could wrap her in a comforting hug. God he felt good. She leaned her head on his shoulder as she finished her story.

“Pretty lame story, huh?”

“Pretty lame guy.” Becket stroked her cheek. “But at least I now know why there was a pantsless man wandering the party a little while ago!”

“You saw him?” She snorted laughter. “Oh my god. Did he look ridiculous?”

“He did, and now that I know what he did to deserve it, I’m glad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed some more, but it died away. “You know what, though? It didn’t make me feel any better to do that. I thought it would. I thought it’d … I don’t know, fix me. An eye for an eye or something. I guess that’s overrated.” She played with a button on his shirt, suddenly tempted to work it open.

She lifted her head a little to look at him. After a hesitation, he lowered his head and lightly kissed her lips. It felt shocking yet somehow inevitable. His lips were warm and firm and tender at the same time.

She closed her eyes as the kiss lingered, savoring its unhurried sweetness, feeling warmth spread through her body, then broke off and pushed him away a little. “Wait a second, hold up. Are you Pepper’s boyfriend or not? I don’t wanna do the same thing to her that happened to me.”

Becket shook his head with a sad little smile. “I’m not sure—I thought I might be, but … I don’t know where we stand, or what to do about that.”

Delia sat up. “Well. I guess it’s time for your tale of woe.”

Chapter 35

Griff found himself back on the sidewalk. He stared at dirty piles of slush, trembling; the adrenaline draining out of him combined with rising incredulous anger. He leaned against the building, his breathing ragged.

The cold cleared his head, and the reality of his current situation set in. He had no car, no home, no money, no job, no prospects, and barely any clothes or belongings. He hadn’t been this destitute since he was in his late teens, but here he was, pushing thirty, back to square one.

He had a place to stay, at least for the time being, but he wasn’t sure what Rocky would say when he told him he’d backed out. Sure, Chuck had said Rocky was still in, but then Chuck was a fucking armed robber, so Griff wasn’t sure he could be taken at his word.

He checked his phone. Rocky hadn’t called, so he probably thought everything was going as planned.

Griff thought regretfully of the money he’d given the old lady, which might’ve at least bought him a spot at a shelter, or enough booze to forget the cold and his troubles for a while. Then he realized Chuck would’ve taken it anyway, and he was fiercely glad the woman had gotten it instead.

The chill was seeping in—his leather jacket was fine for Seattle winters but nowhere near substantial enough for a late-December Minnesota night. He’d taken a bus downtown, but he had keys to Rocky’s car, so he could get back to Northeast and sleep in it if he turned it on periodically to heat it up. But he felt nowhere near sleepy, and he had no money to go anywhere else.

A group of partiers burst through the doors of the building he’d just left, laughing and stumbling against each other. He thought of Great Dane. He wasn’t in a party mood, but he couldn’t think of a better alternative. It was warm, there were at least two sexy girls to admire—even if they were both busy with undeserving dickheads—and the drinks were free and plentiful. Drinking himself into oblivion sounded pretty good in the absence of any real solutions. He headed back inside to the elevators.

His hand, thrust in his pocket to warm up, encountered the tiny baggie containing the last of the ecstasy. He shrugged to himself and pulled it out, extricating one tiny tablet. He popped it in his mouth, wrinkling his nose slightly at the bitter taste before he managed to swallow it.

The door opened to the fourth floor. The silver glitter curtain over the doorway was sagging and tattered by now. Movement caught his eye to his left. Delia and Becket—two of the only people he knew at the party—were cuddled close to one another on a ragged maroon loveseat.

He hesitated just long enough for Delia to wave. “Griffin!” She turned to Becket. “This is Griffin. He’s my friend from high school! We hadn’t seen each other for years before tonight.”

“We met earlier.” Becket raised a hand. “How’s it going?”

Griff approached, smiling awkwardly, feeling like a third wheel; they seemed very cozy. Which was slightly strange given he’d seen Delia all over Ted and Becket looking very attentive toward Pepper, but what did he know?

“Sit, sit.” Delia patted the cushion next to her. “This is the Tales of Woe couch,” she said grandly. “If you have a tale of woe, you too can join us.” She poked Becket’s cheek playfully. “This guy, for instance, is carrying an engagement ring for a chick who says they’re not exclusive. And I tried to act like the Count of Monte Cristo, but my elaborate revenge just made me miserable.”

Griff let out a surprised laugh. “Okay, wow.” Because Delia was so close to Becket, there was room for him to squeeze onto the loveseat, though he found himself pressed tightly against her hip. “Yeah, I think I qualify. Though I think my woes may be karma. Does that still count, if I brought them on myself?”

“Ooh, sounds juicy.” Delia’s eyes lit up. “Yes, we take all kinds of woe on the Tales of Woe couch, so tell us all about it.”

Griff held up the baggie. “Okay. May I give you both a peace offering first?”

They exchanged a look, then shrugged almost in unison. “Why not?” Becket said. “How much?”

“On the house.” Griff knew he should be scrounging for every dollar, but they’d made him feel human by inviting him to join them. In the moment, that felt more important than survival.

He dropped a tablet into each of their outstretched hands. They washed them down with the last sips of their drinks.

“So what’s your story, man?” Becket asked.

Griff hesitated, then laughed a little. “I feel like I wasted my whole story telling it to the guy who pulled a gun on me tonight.”

“Okay, wow! You already won,” Delia said. “Also, are you okay?”

He blushed at her concern. And at her leg pressed against him. “Yeah, he didn’t pull the trigger. I’m okay.” He reconsidered that statement. “Well, physically I’m okay. As a human being, I’m a piece of shit, and financially, I’m broke as a joke. But I’m alive, so I guess that’s something.” He looked at Delia. “And I’m sitting next to a really pretty girl, so that’s something too.” He clapped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed. “Sorry! I don’t think the X has even hit me yet. I don’t know where that came from.”

Delia and Becket both laughed. “It’s that kind of night,” Becket said. Delia impulsively kissed Griff on the cheek.

“It is.” She squeezed his thigh with her hand. Then she put her other hand on Becket’s leg. “It really is.”

Becket looked guarded for a moment. Then he relaxed into a smile and touched her hand, taking it into his. “Hey, I thought the moral of your story tonight was ‘Never Date a White Boy.’”

Delia snickered. “Well, yeah, that’s true. But I didn’t say anything about not fooling around with white boys plural. I gave myself an out!” She kissed him boldly, and Griff watched in fascination. Then she turned to Griff. “Actually, I think white boys owe me, after the time I’ve had.” She ran her hand along his leg, her smile mischievous, and he felt excitement spreading from where she touched him.

Griff shrugged and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’ll take your word for it.” He bent to plant a kiss on her lips.

Chapter 36

Pepper wandered mechanically through the party. Delia had disappeared and seemingly been replaced at the DJ stand by another beautiful Black woman. Pepper wasn’t sure why and felt strangely uncurious about it. Becket was nowhere to be seen.

The noise and hilarity swelled around her. Erik and Mark were talking animatedly to Doug while he slipped his fingers inside Brianna’s pink teddy as she sat on his lap. Meanwhile Ted, who had slunk away into a darkened office for a while, was back out in the main area, doing a keg stand in his boxers.

Pepper couldn’t seem to shake her lethargy, but she had to get through the night somehow; no one else would be in any condition to take over her responsibilities. She checked her phone. It wasn’t even midnight. It would be going for hours.

She had to clear her head somehow. Or take something so she wouldn’t have to think anymore. She checked her bag, but the ecstasy was long gone. Fresh air then. She pushed through the silver curtain for the first time since she’d set it up hours ago.

“Pepper!” Delia’s voice rang out cheerfully and she was surprised to see Griff, Delia, and Becket looking cozy together on the old loveseat someone had pushed into the hallway months ago and forgotten about.

Griff waved and smiled. They looked so happy and relaxed. Pepper felt herself crumbling. She pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress a sob and stabbed at the elevator down button.

“Pepper!” Becket jumped up and ran to her. He put his arms around her shaking shoulders. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

She stiffened at first, started to push him away, and then collapsed against him. “It was all just a big joke.” She sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m just a big joke apparently.” She looked up at him, her makeup probably smeared all to hell. “Erik and Mark are in there right now getting that—fucking asshole’s business, and I’ll probably get fired when I get into work Monday. This was my last chance and I blew it.”

“Okay, calm down.” He brought her to his spot on the couch and sat on the arm next to her. “What happened?”

She told them everything, her own voice a dull monotone in her ears. She didn’t care how stupid she sounded, how embarrassing it had been. She was numb to it.

“Oh my god, girl.” Delia put her hand on Pepper’s arm. “Men are such absolute shit!” She looked around. “Present company excluded, I mean. For now at least. But you know what? There is no shame in getting fucked over by assholes. That’s on them, not you.”

Griff shook his head in agreement. “Everyone right here has been fucked over so bad.”

“Well, except me,” Becket said.

Pepper looked up at him, tears drying on her face. “Yes you have,” she said, her voice choking up as she tried not to start crying again. “I fucked you over. I treated you like shit for a week. And for what? For nothing. I’m so sorry.”

Becket half-laughed, but it sounded a little bit strangled, like a lump had developed in his own throat. “No you didn’t,” he said. “You have always been straight with me, Pepper. You’ve never made promises you couldn’t keep. I was the one who read too much into things. That’s on me.”

“But—” She stopped as he stood up, paced the hall a little, his hand pressed against his mouth.

He shook his head. “Those guys don’t get to win like that. No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I own the building that fucker’s company is in,” Becket said. “Doug Davidson? If he doesn’t give his business to you I will make sure he loses his office. I’m sure there’s a million landlord violations I can find as a reason to kick him out. But first he’ll have to pay so many fines, he’ll be scrambling for months. And I can do other things too. I know people.”

Pepper and the others listened open-mouthed. Finally she found her voice. “Okay, first of all, are you tripping? You own a building?”

He shook his head. “I’m not kidding. I own five buildings—wait, six now—and that’s one of them.”

“Um … okay.” She searched his face and knew he wasn’t high and wasn’t kidding. “So that’s crazy. Let’s come back to that later. But second of all, I don’t want to play dirty tricks. That’s exactly what they did to me tonight, but I don’t want to sink to their level.”

“Yes!” They turned to Delia, whose turn it was to put her hand to her mouth. “Sorry, but that’s what’s been bothering me tonight, Pepper. Getting payback on Teddy made me feel like I’d just turned into an asshole like him.”

“Ted!” Pepper practically spit his name, momentarily forgetting her own troubles. “I don’t know what you did to him, but he deserved whatever he got. He is the king of all assholes. Plus, he’s happy as a clam in there doing keg stands, and later he’ll go to his rich girlfriend’s parents’ mansion and all will be well.”

“Who, Ankala?” Delia sounded confused but Pepper felt even more puzzled.

“No, Vicki. The girl he’s been going out with since college.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, I assumed you’d found out and that’s what you meant about him being an asshole.”

Delia closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, I didn’t know about that other girl. I guess there are more of us than I thought.”

There was silence as the four of them took that in. Pepper broke it with a self-deprecating laugh. “And I never even took any of that fucking ecstasy I bought.”

“Well, that I can remedy at least!” Griff pulled out a nearly empty baggie and held it up. “You want some now? We’re all rolling anyway; it’s gonna hit soon.”

She laughed again, and wiped some of the smudged eyeliner from her cheeks. “Sure.” She looked back at the party. “Well, but I gotta make sure this bullshit gets shut down safely.”

“Do you really?” Griff said.

She shrugged and popped the pill. “Maybe not. What does it matter? I’m out of a job anyway.”

“How about we all go back to my place?” Becket said. “Ride it out away from this shit show here.”

Delia shook her head glumly. “I gotta stay too. It’s a paying gig, and plus a lot of my equipment is in there.”

“I’ve already paid you, and you can keep it no matter what,” Pepper said. “Your stuff’ll be there tomorrow.”

“And if it’s not, I’ll replace every bit of it,” Becket said.

Pepper’s confusion grew. “Beck, um, I don’t know how to say this—are you rich and you never thought to mention it to me?”

He laughed and stood up, holding his hand out to her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before we all lose our heads.”

Chapter 37

They grabbed coats and purses without anyone noticing. Pepper ripped off the bunny tail and ears and shoved them deep in a trash can. Becket saw her do it and, after she turned away, threw the box with the ring in after it. Meanwhile, Delia whispered to Ankala that she could leave anytime she wanted and not worry about the gear, though she looked like she was just getting started. She also told her about Vicki.

Ankala looked over at Teddy, who was dancing in oblivious happiness on the other side of the room. “No he fucking didn’t.”

“He did, and I don’t even have the heart to tell that poor girl her relationship’s been a lie.”

Ankala gave a grim smile. “I do. I’ll make sure that fucker pays.” She hugged Delia. “You go take care of yourself. I’ll take care of this.”

“Thank you.” Delia squeezed Ankala with a rush of affection. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Where to?” Griff asked in the elevator.

“I actually parked at my place and walked, since it was so close,” Becket said. “But that’s not going to work for you, Pepper, in those shoes.”

Before Pepper could question his having walked from South Minneapolis into downtown, Delia broke in. “I drove. I’ll take us.”

Becket gave Delia directions and, less than five minutes later, they were pulling into a parking garage under a sleek high-rise. “Beck?” Pepper asked. “Back to my, um, earlier question …”

He sighed. “This is my other place. I prefer the house, but this one was closer.”

They entered an elevator and took it to the eighteenth floor. Becket unlocked a door and stepped aside to let them in. He turned on lights, adjusting them so they were dim throughout the large open living area.

Delia crossed the flawless hardwood floor and stood at a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out east, over the Mississippi River and toward Saint Paul. “This is a pretty dope crib for a karaoke DJ.”

“I thought you were pretty much a handyman,” Pepper said with an edge of irritation. “Were you keeping this from me or something?”

Becket shook his head, looking guilty. “Not on purpose. I don’t always, like, advertise it because people act different when they find out.” He sighed. “It sounds paranoid, but I wanted to make sure you liked me for me. I was gonna tell you but I never found a good time.”

She wanted to be annoyed, but annoyingly, the ecstasy was starting to take over, and she couldn’t hold onto her anger. “Well, don’t lie to me anymore, okay?”

“I won’t. I’m sorry.” Becket kissed her. It felt like it had been forever. She clung to him, making it last.

Chapter 38

Becket showed Delia his stereo system and CD collection. Meanwhile, Pepper noticed the pool table dominating the area that may have housed a dining room table in a normal home. “Now Beck, this was just cruel, keeping this a secret from me!”

Delia gravitated to it too after she got the music going. “Teddy sucked so bad at pool, and none of my friends are that interested, so I haven’t had a good game in a long time.”

“You’ve found one,” Becket said. “She keeps me on my toes.”

“Let’s do this,” Pepper said with mock toughness, though she was too euphoric from the X to pull off the attitude convincingly. The girls started a fairly competitive game considering their condition.

Griff came across a photo of Pepper in a bikini on the deck of a boat. “That’s a Sea Ray, right?” he asked Becket.

“Yeah—you know boats?”

“A little bit.” Griff laughed. “I know a little bit about a lot of things. That’s a beauty though. I’ve never been on one that nice.”

“I had no idea,” Pepper said wryly. “I didn’t know it was anything special.”

Becket brough bottles of water from the kitchen and handed one to Griff. “Maybe I can take you out on it if you’re around when it gets warm enough.”

“That’d be awesome.” Griff spoke slowly; his mouth felt relaxed and it made it hard to get words out. “I can work on it if you ever need that—I helped out at a shop for a little while.” He wandered to a couch and lay down, holding a pillow to his chest. “It’s happening.”

Becket handed Delia a bottle of water where she was sitting on another couch across from Griff; the pool game had petered out quickly. “How about you?” He sat down next to her and leaned his head back against the cushion.

“Oh yeah.” She looked around at the lights and the view through the window. “Everything looks, and feels, really … tasty.”

“Even me?” Beck chuckled, eyes closed.

“Especially you,” she said, and he felt her lips pressing against his. He opened his eyes in surprise and pulled away guiltily. Pepper had been admiring the view but was now watching him with an inscrutable expression.

“Oh,” she said in a considering tone of voice. “Uh, hmm.”

“I’m sorry.” Becket sat up. “That was my fault. I wasn’t sure … what we were doing anymore, and I kind of kissed Delia earlier.”

Pepper hesitated, then smiled. “You know what, it’s fine. Don’t stop, Delia. I’m happy for you, Beck. I’ve been an asshole to you lately, and I was letting a complete fucking douchebag grope me right in front of you. I don’t have any right to judge. At least you’re making out with a super cool girl, not a douchebag.” She laughed a little bitterly, more at the recollection of Doug than what was happening now, but her mind couldn’t stay latched onto anything that had happened, as waves of strange elation pulsed through her.

“You know what I discovered?” Delia said. “You can clear away allll the negative energy of getting groped by a douchebag just by making out with a really nice guy. It’s like a miracle cure.” She straddled Becket and kissed him again, ruffling his hair with her fingers. He seemed helpless to resist.

“No, that’s okay,” Pepper said. “I don’t want to horn in. You deserve some Becket time after what you’ve been through. Isn’t he sexy?”

“Um, yeah he is,” Delia said, “but I don’t know if you noticed that we happen to have another really cute guy at your disposal.” She gestured across to where Griff was lying. He looked surprised.

Pepper shook her head, smiling. She checked her face in a compact mirror, trying to rub away the worst of the smeared eye makeup. “I am not going to pressure poor Griff to make out with me.”

“You wouldn’t have to pressure me,” he said quickly, sitting up. “Do you, um, want to?”

Pepper snorted and put away her mirror. “Of course I do.” She felt like she should be shocked at her own frankness, but she wasn’t really.

Delia raised her eyebrows at Griff and cocked her head toward where Pepper was standing by the window. He stood hesitantly and went to her. He looked out the window too, momentarily dazzled by the lights of the city.

Pepper looked up at him, half smiling. “This is so weird.”

“I know.”

“Nothing about this night makes any sense.”

“You’re telling me.”

“You don’t have to make out with me just because Delia told you to.” She giggled at what she was saying; her X was kicking in harder too.

“But if I want to, can I?”

She turned her eyes to him again. “I mean, look at you. Of course you can.”

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her slowly to him. “I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I saw you.” He ran his hand up her back. She closed her eyes and melted into him.

“Me too.”

Delia leaned over and whispered to Becket. “How are you feeling?” She undid a button on his white shirt and slipped her hand inside to stroke his chest.

“Good, I think.” He watched Pepper and Griff kiss. “This doesn’t feel bad, for some reason.” He kissed her cheek, trailing his lips along to her mouth. “This feels right.”

Pepper broke off from kissing Griff, feeling dizzy. “Is this okay? Are we being crazy?”

“No crazier than anything else that’s happened tonight,” Griff said. He took her hand and led her to the couch he’d been lying on. “You should relax while you’re peaking.” He helped her get comfortable, then began running his hands slowly over her arms and chest, her stomach and legs, all of her exposed skin.

Delia’s phone rang and she picked it up and listened. “Oh my god.” Uncontrollable laughter bubbled up. “Girl. You didn’t.”

She had everyone’s attention by the time she hung up. “Holy shit.” She wiped her eyes. “So, Teddy used a work phone to call his other girlfriend, and Ankala saw him and got the number off it. She had a little chat with Vicki and it turns out, his car’s in her name—he doesn’t even own it! Vicki reported it as stolen and the cops showed up to arrest Teddy. Pantsless, of course. Poor boy’s starting the new millennium in lockup, with zero girlfriends instead of three.” She leaned against Becket as her laughter subsided.

“Amazing,” Griff said.

“Oh, that’s perfect” Pepper said dreamily. “I wish they’d taken Erik and Doug and Mark away while they were at it.”

“Say the word, Pepper,” Becket said. “I wouldn’t have any problem playing dirty for you.”

“I don’t think that’d make me happy, like how Delia felt earlier.” She sighed as Griff stroked her body, moving slightly in response. “But thank you—I’ll just be satisfied knowing that I could make that happen if I wanted to. And that you’d do that for me.” She teared up. “I love you, Beck.”

“I love you too, Pepper.” He laughed disbelievingly. “I always wanted to hear you say that, and tell you that, but I didn’t think we’d be in this particular situation when I did.”

“I was scared to admit it,” Pepper said. “I thought I’d get hurt if I did. Maybe this is the best way we could’ve said it.” She breathed deeply and arched under Griff’s hands, every stroke of his fingers bringing her skin alive.

“Maybe so.” Becket watched her and Griff with fascination until Delia straddled him again. Her cleavage encased in gold lame was incredibly enticing. “Do you mind if I—?” He fingered the halter tie at her neck.

“Not at all, honey,” Delia said. He tugged gently and the strap finally released its pressure. Becket gasped a little as the top slid down. He undid the second strap in the middle of her back and slowly pulled the material off, discarding it forgotten on the floor. He took one nipple into his mouth and stroked the other with a thumb, and Delia’s breathing quickened. Soon Becket was kneeling on the floor, easing Delia’s pants down.

Griff gently worked off Pepper’s clothes and continued to stroke her body. After a while she moaned and turned over. “I need more. I want to be touched all over at once.”

Griff lowered himself onto her. “Is this better?” he said softly.

“Better, but I need to feel your skin.” Her voice was breathy

He glanced over at Becket. He was sitting on the couch again and Delia had unbuttoned his shirt, then his trousers. Griff stripped down to his underwear and returned to Pepper, who had turned onto her back again and welcomed him with open arms. She opened her eyes long enough to see Becket’s head flung back as Delia went down on him, and watched until her own body connecting with Griffin’s commanded her attention again.

Midnight came and went unnoticed.

At some point, Becket suggested they move to the bedroom,

Delia embraced Griff in the darkened room, their bodies pressed together in the glow of moonlight and city lights. Pepper whispered into Becket’s ear. “Please promise me this night won’t screw things up for us.”

Becket cupped her chin gently and looked into her eyes. “Pepper, nothing could ever make me want you less. I know that for sure now.”

Chapter 39

Delia brought a joint from her purse and they passed it around. Pepper nestled against Griff as he leaned against the wall, half under the covers; Delia and Becket snuggled together against a pile of propped-up pillows.

“Happy New Year,” Becket said, stroking Delia’s shoulder and looking tenderly at Pepper.

“Happy new millennium,” Pepper murmured. She accepted the joint from Delia and took another hit and held it in, then blew it toward the slowly lightening sky, hints of pink and yellow tinging the gray. She turned her head and kissed Griff on the cheek. “Resolutions? Plans?”

He stroked her belly and grazed his knuckles along the underside of her breasts. “I’m just enjoying this. It’s honestly gone from the worst night of my life to the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m trying to hold onto that feeling a little longer.”

“Then what?”

“Then I start over from scratch, I guess.”

“What do you want to do?” Becket asked.

He shrugged. “I know I have to do things differently, but I don’t know what that means.” He paused to think. “I always liked the music scene, but I’m not that special of a musician myself. It’d be cool to work at a club someday. But first I gotta get whatever job I can, bus boy or janitor or McDonald’s fry cook, who knows?” He heard his phone shrill in the other room and extricated himself reluctantly from Pepper. “I better go see if Rocky’s pissed enough to kick me out.” He pulled on his boxers and left the room.

“What about you, Pepper?” Becket reached his free arm toward her, and she curled up against him on the other side from Delia. He stroked her tousled hair.

She sighed. “I don’t know. I thought the ad industry would be my thing, but I don’t know if I can hack it anymore.”

“But you can do the job,” Becket said. “It’s just they don’t give you the freedom to do it right at Great Dane.”

“Yeah,” she said tiredly. “But all agencies are the same, really. I don’t know. A lot of women know how to handle it, balance all the bullshit and succeed. I might not be able to. Maybe there’s another line of work where I won’t be … treated like that all the time. It’s really soul-sucking.”

“Tell me about it,” Delia said. “The club scene is pretty jacked too. Managers think female acts owe them something for getting booked. And you know you’re getting paid less than every guy on the circuit, but you can’t do shit about it.”

“It’s not about how good you are at the job, it’s how good are you at the hustle,” Pepper said.

“Everything is stacked against us.” Delia sounded weary.

They all fell quiet until Pepper broke it. “Do you have plans for the new year, Beck?”

He shrugged. “I’m thinking about it.”

Griff came back into the room. “That was Rocky.” His eyes were wide. “He didn’t hear from the guys we were dealing with when he was supposed to, and their phones were out of service. So he went downtown to find them. No one was there so he broke in … and the place was completely empty! Like, a deserted space.” He laughed in disbelief. “They were always talking about this giant server that was going to transfer like millions of dollars out of the banks. It never existed.”

“Holy shit!” Pepper said.

“They were just regular con men, not criminal masterminds or anything.” He sank onto the corner of the bed in shock. “So, like, they’d’ve taken the money either way. Even if I’d said I was in.”

They sat in stunned silence.

“It’s fine.” Griff sounded resigned. “It doesn’t change anything for me, and it’s better this way. Starting with that money wouldn’t be starting over at all.”

“Okay.” Becket sat up, moving his arms gently out from under the two girls, and put on his briefs. “I know my plan for the new year.”

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Delia laughed. “Good for you. What are you gonna do?”

He stood and paced the room, scrubbing at his stubble with one hand as he thought. “I can fix all of this,” he said, almost to himself. Then he stopped, shaking his head.

“Fuck. No, I’m doing it again.” He covered his face for a second. “I thought buying a ring would keep you with me, Pepper.” Her mouth dropped open, but he didn’t register her astonishment. “I thought a big raise would keep Annie working for me. I can’t just throw money around to make people stay. I can’t pay to make you like me.”

Pepper found her voice. “Beck, I love you. You’re right, you can’t pay for that. I loved you before I knew you had money.” She laughed. “Shit, I didn’t know you bought me a ring until just now! Can I, uh, see it?”

“It’s gone,” Becket said distractedly.

Delia broke in. “I’ve always liked you, too, Beck. Way before this.”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Griff said. “You’re a great guy. You helped me feel like a human being again.”

Becket ducked his head self-consciously. “Well, let me tell you what I was thinking, and feel free to let me know if I’m way out of line.” He took a deep breath. “Basically—I’d kind of like to see what you’re all capable of when you’re not operating out of fear or desperation, you know? Or dealing with prejudice. I never really thought hard enough about what a huge advantage I have. Maybe I can spread that around a little.” They stared at him, riveted.

“I just bought a warehouse across the river,” he said. “I’m going to fix it up. Well, I was going to do that already. Here’s the new part: I want to turn the top into offices and the bottom into a nightclub.” He looked at Pepper. “I wanna invest in your new agency.”

“My what?” she said, dazed.

“Your ad agency. You’ll be in charge. Hire all women if you want. Or at least, the men you hire will have to respect you or they’re out.”

She was speechless for a moment. “Are you serious, Beck? It takes a lot of money, and time and connections to build a brand new agency.”

“I can help you with that—I know tons of people. Or you can hire whoever you need to help you get it done. Whatever you need, babe, you’ll get it.”

Becket turned his attention to Griff and Delia. “How would you two like to run your own club together?”

Griff stared. “Are you shitting me?”

Delia widened her eyes and looked at Griff. “I mean, that sounds spectacular …”

“It does, but—” Griff hesitated. “Be straight, man. Is this some kind of joke? I’ve been dicked around a lot these past few days.”

Becket shook his head. “No, I mean it. I’ve been wanting something different for a while, and it all fell into place for me just now.”

He sat down again. “We’d set it up so you’re not beholden to me. I swear, I’m not going to try and blackmail you into not leaving.” His eyes searched each of theirs in turn. “I’m not superstitious. I don’t think we found each other for a reason or anything like that. But we did find each other. And there’s something here, don’t you think? I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want it to end just yet. Do you?”

“This part too?” Pepper gestured at the bed, the room, the others.

Becket looked flustered. “I mean, if, you know, as long as we all want it.” He shrugged. “I’ve never, ever done anything like this, so I have no idea how it works.”

None of them did, they agreed. So they talked about his idea and watched the sun rise together until, one by one, they drifted off to sleep.

T.A. Berkeley